the anti-heroine of an era of bathtub gin, organized crime, and jazz, clouded in the smoke of fired guns and cigarettes.
Van Gogh cut off his ear gave it to a prostitute who flung it away in extreme disgust.
Van, whores don’t want ears they want money. I guess that’s why you were such a great painter: you didn’t understand anything else.

— Charles Bukowski

@темы: with serpents for arms the lovers are the hydra of the tale