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my first self portrait; usually it is a serious affair through a more serious other 'artist'; it get so serious that there is no place for the real 'me' in any of those; skin bones hair, yerk always the same fucking thing; however, here I am, left side, uttering the word 'toilette' while a blue sail makes winds, blues if you like blue cheese; smelly like hell tasty like well deep into a wealth of human experiences; yeah, me the real me, at last, after all those photographs taken by well meaning friends; rest me in my peace