Early this morning I was pulling my kit and walked down Queens Blvd, searching for subjects to paint when I saw a food truck parked on roadside near the entrance to the Borough Court House. I went up to him and asked how long he would stay there. The vendor told me that he would not leave till after 1 PM. Therefore, I set up under a big tree to paint him. His name was Tommy and he told me that he had been selling food at the spot for 38 years. No wonder everyone passing by knew his name. Besides, he got an advertisement board on the nose of his truck, which promoted not food but, surprisingly, legal help. It said "Criminal Cases: Defenselawyer.com "
I got some shade from the big tree all right. However, I didn't expect there were all kinds of bugs there, especially ants and tiny spiders. I felt they came to my neck and under my shirt. Then they crawl on my legs. Sometimes, I had to scratch but forgot how dirty my hands were. I ended up having my legs looking like native American totem poles. When I got home, I noticed there was paint even on my face.
The spot also made out of me an information desk. I don't remember how many people stopped by asking me where the court house was. Once while I was using the thinnest brush and carefully drawing an exquisite line, an Indian or Pakistani woman leaned over and asked me in one breath three consecutive times: "Where is the court house, sir? Wheres... Where...?" I really wanted to yell aloud, "For God's sake, can you wait?" but I didn't. For one thing, I didn't want my body to move, even a bit. On the other hand, I guess she must be in a hurry or even have lost her head for the legal case she was involved in. What an experience!
I got some shade from the big tree all right. However, I didn't expect there were all kinds of bugs there, especially ants and tiny spiders. I felt they came to my neck and under my shirt. Then they crawl on my legs. Sometimes, I had to scratch but forgot how dirty my hands were. I ended up having my legs looking like native American totem poles. When I got home, I noticed there was paint even on my face.
The spot also made out of me an information desk. I don't remember how many people stopped by asking me where the court house was. Once while I was using the thinnest brush and carefully drawing an exquisite line, an Indian or Pakistani woman leaned over and asked me in one breath three consecutive times: "Where is the court house, sir? Wheres... Where...?" I really wanted to yell aloud, "For God's sake, can you wait?" but I didn't. For one thing, I didn't want my body to move, even a bit. On the other hand, I guess she must be in a hurry or even have lost her head for the legal case she was involved in. What an experience!
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