I had just arrived in Florence, and I was jet-lagged and disoriented. I was in the east end of town, well past the old city, and had nothing better to do than go down to the river and draw while the sun set.
But after a short while a Nigerian girl showed up and asked me if I wanted to f**k. I declined, and gave it no more thought. Yeah, I was that jet-lagged.
A few minutes later she was back, with a bedraggled looking Italian man in tow. He seemed ashamed and was very apologetic, but it wasn't because of what he was up to; it was because he was interrupting my drawing.
Really, he didn't need to apologize. I was the one in the wrong place.
It was done with india ink and a dip pen. The sun was shining through the trees and reflecting in the river.
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