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At four o clock, thirty one years later, I had a argument with a young man in a bad,cheap, silvery suit.
He had just been to Argos but had parked his car illegally.
I confronted him and he told me to sue him.
I looked at his shoes and noticed how short his trousers were.
Then stepping out of this anger, I wondered why I would ever want to stay connected to him for that length of time?
I wasn't an artist in that moment.
I was a subject.