welcome to the cafe shabu. permit me to introduce you to some of our regulars. starting on my immediate left
next to him we see a lady who has traded in a lifestyle of the rich and famous for work with underprivileged and exceptional children which i am sure makes her very pleased with herself
ladies and gentlemen. sitting next to her a man of letters and words and moods. a man who spent most of his life deceiving himself and now finds himself facing six years in rehabilitation prison and a death sentence on the outside. sitting next to him on a banquette
she's been stuffed for years. next to her are two spinsters knitting their way in and out of various predicaments coloured by the excesses of their ancestors. and close by them
some surreal painter's brooding over the very over-emphasis of colour-violence. violence on the blue end of the scale. next to them
rip up the cheques said the maitre d'. see if i care. i do this for the company. i've got no-one to trust any secrets to but myself. in the basement