In this world, your words is all you have. And if you don’t have the paper? You just don’t get what you want. And by God I wanted that painting more than anything in the world.
A portrait, painted of my mother by my cousin and local artist-celebrity, Duaz Romandsu.
It was painted in his school years, yet he insists on charging me 1,000 big ones for it! I told him I could produce that by the end of the month.
I am a writer, my novel A Book Holds A House of Gold series made a bit of dough. So of course I’d put in for it (though really he should have given me it for free the robbing so-and-so).
So the big moment arrived. I put the pages down at that opportunistic little weasel’s desk. An essay on why he wanted the painting so badly.
I’d spent the best part of two months on it! He lifted it up and leafed through briefly before remarking, “Hmm yes, this’ll do. Help yourself”.
As I went to lift the canvas with my beautiful mother on it, he continued on with some monstrosity of a modern art piece.