Modigliani Moods

Pavement cafés scatter cobbles of Montmartre. Whores step over ditches, become painted queens. He flings his cape, adjusts his scarf, picks his way through muddy lanes and creaking, swaying studios of the Bateau Lavoir – and dreams of dancing naked with sloe-eyed models under stars. Kim M. Russell, 2017   My second response to Thotpurge’s […]