me and Graham Greene

When I used to paint all day long, when all I did was dream of rich reds bleeding into cobalt blues¬†beneath my brush, I had a patron saint painter who hovered above my canvas, with¬†whom I was in constant conversation; Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, impressionist painter of fin-de-siecle Paris nightclubs and bordellos, arguably the inventor of... Continue Reading →

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