I've always felt it's nicer to use the vodka if I ask for it first. Be honest, and ask politely. In the bar, I only asked one woman for a sample, and it proved to take longer than I had originally thought. The bar was dark inside, lit only by neon beer logos and cigarette tips - light which skewed my values, and confuses the palette knife. After a few hours, the obliging lady (being led home) has provided much more than I needed. I set off for the field I had selected outside, looking down on the bar square and the university. Early morning, and the mountains cloudy behind me. It was the sunniest spot, and I opened the warm jars hidden in my coat sleeve, sloshed the cocktails out into an empty paint can. Mixing my five paintspots in warm oranges, I wash my canvas in the pure cranberry cocktail. The woman at the bar had given me a slow wink, and this is what I paint in vodka colors, in the raking dawn light. It dries fast, and cracks horribly.
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