"Who are you and who are you working for?" The voice kept slamming in my head, I was spinning, zooming in and out of attentiveness. I was trying to choose some words to intelligently gain some leverage, my lips saying out of turn, "I don't know!" I am an abstract artist. I just draw what I imagine and or work out of shapes and colors. I do them one at a time, no thought of a series or relatedness between them. They had me in a little room, there was a table beyond a window. I could see them hunched over it. They roughly handled the drawings, turning them ever which way, standing back to gaze. Then they would gasp in amazement, throwing their hands in the air with unconstrained astonishment. They would half turn, hiding their lips, I couldn't make out their mutterings. Then one would come into my space, "Where did you get this?", You can't possibly know what this stuff is!", "Who are you?" "I don't know" I said, "I just work out the forms as they come, been doing it for years. I never thought to put the drawings together."
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