I felt sorry for Amber . . . a kat of the streets in Paris, 1850. I could understand her need for absinth. She’d had a difficult childhood and was leading a difficult life with no skills and little to work with other than her body. She had one of those for sure, and used it when she had to. Between customers she was grateful for a warm, dry place to sleep . . . extremely grateful.
She was a good model and could hold still for long periods of time, the second thing she was good at. I paid her a few centimes to sit for me once or twice a week. It was a convenient arrangement for both of us.
Katesse and me had a loft near the Barriére d’ Enfer. We were both artists. He was good, a bit eccentric . . . perhaps mad, but He created a style that would be imitated by Jackson Pollack decades later. He was ahead of his time.
Misfortune does not have to wait for Kat ahead of his time.
I too, was on the cutting edge, but more successful and will tell you more about that later . . . or should I begin my story now?