May 7th
Lenin
The international workers day has surpassed my expectations. Several friends warned me to stay away from the city center, especially if dressed with my usual attire. Anarchists could have blamed me for wearing a tie and a black suit; the police could have stopped me for trying to lead the mob. I did not care about their caveats. I was the leader of the Revolution around eighty years ago and I have not lost my manipulative skills. It was daring to join the huge parade of the leftists, but it was really worth the risk. The enthusiasm they applied while chanting the usual slogans was striking. Words devoid of any meaning even when they had been used for the first time. Even more the violence exercised against banks and any building somehow connected with the slightest form of capitalism. They told me that several years ago, one of them had won a huge amount of money with the national lottery. He conceded himself the luxury of a sports car, a supercar as it is branded by the marketing. He also confided in his comrades, to be able to recognise the expensive automobile belonging to one of them. The comrade was wrong and his luxurious toy was burned. Such a fury is the one needed for successful revolutions. Individuals, once captured by fanaticism, cease to reason with their own brains. Those in the parade were moreover helped by regular drug abuse. Toxic substances are nowadays taken as a sort of ritual position by each celebration of anti-capitalist rage. I still have to be patient, before organizing the next putsch and to be patient is the most difficult skill for my character. I am however disciplined enough to maintain a full control of my mind. Otherwise I shall never be able to influence the mind of others.
The art dealer
Back again to Cambridgeshire, the memories of Dresden have faded away behind me. I am wondering whether I could have done more than the expected results. Perhaps it is hard, on the first day, or on the first trip, to obtain such a success to establish a link with a valuable promising artist. You need at first to understand the local logic, not necessarily the language. In the art market a foreign accent is always welcomed. It provides that feeling of exoticity mixed with a worldwide market. Honestly, the most beautiful pieces of art I have noticed in Dresden, are those hold in the Gallery of the Old Masters. It is a piety it is so hard to make good deals with them. Too many regulations, too many restrictions on the borders. Too high costs of maintenance, being the recurring needed restorations a true artistic enterprise by itself. With all the costs connected. Perhaps the only way to work with valuable Old Masters, is to deal with the perfect counterfeits produced along the centuries. Making it clear they are copies, finding a way to document the creation of the false and making it clear that no litigation about the authenticity should follow, it could constitute a reasonable business idea. Technology should help. My dad had so often mentioned forgeries while fighting with the Red Hand. It was not the forgery of artworks, but of passports and any other kind of war-related documents. Including those later adopted by historians to prove the violence to which the Celtic inhabitants of Ulster were subjected. It was also the way, for my father, to escape the chance to be tried for war crimes. Or something like that. He never wanted to share too many details. I do not want to have problems with the law either and I am really proud to sell only verified and fully authentic art pieces. With the Old Masters, too many have already played for too many tricks. The idea has inspired me to read a book about a so-called affair Ruffini. It will be my companion while trying to fall asleep.
The consultant
Another week has reached the end. I am not really able to precisely take in account the days I have worked on a project, if not because of the report needed to bill the client. I have got my mind for the project only, and I am used to measuring my time by the number of slides delivered or the prints accredited on my bonus card. I also celebrate the Go Lives instead of Christmas and my birthday. Perhaps I make some exception with my birthday since my company reminds me of the day with a not-taxable voucher to be spent with some online market. The amount is so small that I buy a set of three exclusive pencils, made with Swiss wood, everytime that I enjoy the special date. I have stored thirty of them in my wardrobe. Perhaps I will be able to use the pencils once retired, by attending some academy of arts and crafts for aged persons. So far the only medium I can use to express myself is my laptop and powerpoint. Sooner or later, I will get tired of producing the usual slides and I will thus deroute my interest for flowers and badly proportioned cats. If lucky, someone will interpret my production as an example of naif pop art. It has already occurred to me in the past, while attempting to fix on paper the landscape of Luxembourg City. Another way to take account of time is the payment of the credit card. I forgot that for a city like Zurich, the expenses can easily reach 20k a month. A considerable sum that, if suddenly appears on the account of a churchmouse as I am, must be justified to the bank. Such an inconvenience however helps to check the personal expenses, since the available budget left on my card is so miserable that I could hardly afford an extra dinner with my most recent date on Tinder. Luckily, being a woman, most of the time I get invited. But there is always the chance to go out with a modern, and stingy, man who prefers to divide.
