One Day with Picasso

Do you agree with one the opinion that art rescues your soul from the eternal suffering? during all the lifetime. And the point is that not every person is able to understand art which means that not every person gets salvation saved. Reflecting on this point of view, I had decided to try to save my "worn" soul ("Damned/doomed", perhaps?) with by visiting one an exposition in our local museum. The choice was made - the Picassos Suite 347 was supposed to be my suffering distraction from suffering. Then I called up my friend, who I wished to save too and we went to this beautiful place together. (Nice sentence!) The exhibit-room was almost empty, there were just a few people wandering from one end of the room to another the other, murmuring some extra-clever words about those this or that dick's (I would say "penis", at least at first. A bit less "sudden", if you know what I mean. :P) projection and the amazing technique of a scrotum's image appearance. Suddenly I saw a small old lady, who was looking over one of the lithographs. After a few minutes she pronounced uttered some amazing words: ''Look, he didn't draw the men completely, but the women... they have all the details." (Kakaya stidobishcha! That means something like, ''What a fucking shame," but not so rude.) My friend and me I (Yes, native English speakers make this mistake all the time but I think you're smarter than most of them. So no excuses. :P) exchanged glances and smiled. I was examining intently all the ways to paint different vaginas, dicks, cocks etc. (You're not one for subtlety, are you? I have no problem with the words but some might prefer you to be a bit more formal describing a man's genitalia - this <em>is </em>a museum, after all. :P) It was pretty exciting, expecially watching the series with the Holy Father (I guess it was him), who was sitting on the chamber-pot and enjoying watching two peoples' coitus. (Never heard of this word before. Now you're teaching <em>me </em>English!) I was the fourth, though. I called it ''Holy Porn'', and I should admit that it was my favourite part. In the end my friend and me I just sat on the sofa and started to watch the video-presentation where many paintings from different periods of Picasso's art and some of his photos from his early years had been collected. Having noticed the one photo, where the artist was about 35-40 years old, the old lady asked, ''Who is it?" It was just amazing! I said, ''It's him, he is just young on in this photo.'' She replied, ''And his look is already sad''. It was such a touching moment, so we just said nothing, plunging into our thoughts. After a while we heard a silent quiet snore. We rose to our feet and left on went to the street. I realised that I was saved.

What an enjoyable read that was. I learned what a coitus is, and got to read about Picasso's strange affinity for sex. That old lady's observation is totally true - most great artists and authors are usually depressed, lonely and sexually deprived. Maybe that's a sign I'm destined to become a famous writer?

Oops, I've said too much. :P Your English, seriously, is amazing. You've spent some time in an English-speaking country, I can tell. Don't lie. You must have!

Thanks for sharing such a fun story. Keep writing - please. :P