Dance Me to the End of Love

Dance Me to the End of Love
Evening Mood painting
female nude reclining
flaming june painting
¡¡¡¡It was ten o'clock when I went out. Many of the shops were shut, and the town was dull. When I came to Omer and Joram's, I found the shutters up, but the shop door standing open. As I could obtain a perspective view of Mr. Omer inside, smoking his pipe by the parlour door, I entered, and asked him how he was. ¡¡¡¡'Why, bless my life and soul!' said Mr. Omer, 'how do you find yourself? Take a seat. - Smoke not disagreeable, I hope?' ¡¡¡¡'By no means,' said I. 'I like it - in somebody else's pipe.' ¡¡¡¡'What, not in your own, eh?' Mr. Omer returned, laughing. 'All the better, sir. Bad habit for a young man. Take a seat. I smoke,
oil painting
myself, for the asthma.' ¡¡¡¡Mr. Omer had made room for me, and placed a chair. He now sat down again very much out of breath, gasping at his pipe as if it contained a supply of that necessary, without which he must perish. ¡¡¡¡'I am sorry to have heard bad news of Mr. Barkis,' said I. ¡¡¡¡Mr. Omer looked at me, with a steady countenance, and shook his head. ¡¡¡¡'Do you know how he is tonight?' I asked. ¡¡¡¡'The very question I should have put to you, sir,' returned Mr. Omer, 'but on account of delicacy. It's one of the drawbacks of our line of business. When a party's ill, we can't ask how the party is.' ¡¡¡¡The difficulty had not occurred to me; though I had had my apprehensions too, when I went in, of hearing the old tune. On its being mentioned, I recognized it, however, and said as much.