Back when I was at Ringling, there was this awesome model who used to come in and pose for figure classes. I feel like an awful shite because I can't remember her name and I liked her a lot. Quite a few others complained about her because she was just a little bit middle-aged, just a little bit stiff, just a little bit fidgety, and just a little bit pudgy. But regardless, she was my favorite model. She had the greatest props and there was just a sort of je ne sais quoi about her; a chemistry that induced me to make great pieces... in f*cking charcoal. I hate charcoal... a lot.

She liked me too, probably because I always romanticized her. The teacher didn't like that of course and I was usually down graded for it. She offered me 50$ for the original of this piece. I gladly accepted.

I feel bad now that I look back. She didn't have much money. Last time I saw her, she told me that she got ripped off at her bar tending job. She fainted during work and some ass took that opportunity to steal 100$ worth of tips from her. If I had known that, I would've given her than damed thing for free.