....Marie Charlet

          Marie Charlet

            “Almost three hundred,” He thought of giving her the balance but he afraid she will leave him as soon as she got the money. They sat down at the marbled-top and he gave an order to a starched well-dressed waiter. Leisurely he removed his derby hat ..balance, but she might leave him….

There's that the moon as dawn goes, the sun had set straight out, above the sky. He who was asking me a drink and to whom I'' ll give him a drink for the exchange to tell the story until sailing away to the open shores. Off we've gone by him the captain who knows it's free because we are on board she will not return. From the shore of the shallow sea, she retired as same as I am. tonight never too soon we'll see him a poet of wisdom will slash the moon. Lol, tonight and never any word his name been told. Surely.
translation: มีดวงจันทร์เมื่อรุ่งสางไปดวงอาทิตย์ตั้งขึ้นเหนือท้องฟ้า ผู้ที่ขอเครื่องดื่มจากฉันและฉันจะให้เขาดื่มเพื่อการแลกเปลี่ยนเพื่อเล่าเรื่องจนกว่าจะแล่นเรือไปที่ชายฝั่งเปิด จากนั้นเราได้ไปกับเขากัปตันที่รู้ว่าฟรีเพราะเราอยู่บนเรือเธอจะไม่กลับมา จากชายฝั่งทะเลตื้น ๆ เธอเกษียณเหมือนฉัน คืนนี้ไม่ช้าเกินไปเราจะเห็นเขาเป็นกวีแห่งปัญญาที่จะเฉือนดวงจันทร์ ฮ่า ๆ คืนนี้และไม่เคยพูดชื่อเขาเลย อย่างแน่นอน โปรตุเกส
ช่วยให้คุณสร้างโลโก้ของตัวเองและบทกวี.....There is a knocking on the door.
"Entrée"
As the door open
"VINCENT"
He dropped his tube of paint he held in his hand, snatched his cane.
"When did you arrive? How long are you staying? Come and sit on the couch and let me look at you !
How do you feel?
     While he spoke his eyes flashed their messages to his brain. Yes it was Vincent...
"Yes I was supposed I did" Vincent starred at his knotty hands".
"It almost killed me though, but perhaps it was worth it"
"even in the asylum, can you imagine Henri?"
"Stop talking about it, you all right now."
"But I want to talk about it."
Vincent persists gently " Perhaps if I do. I'll stop thinking about it. It wasn't the seclusion that hard on me.
It was the proximity of most men. Some of them awoke at night. We do need physical distancing.  " Perhaps if I do. I'll stop thinking about it. It wasn't the seclusion that hard on me.
It was the proximity of most men. We do need physical distancing.. Some of them awoke at night and you could hear them cried aloud guards had dragged them away. At the time I felt I was going crazy. Something inside him seemed to have unlocked the floodgates of his speech. In a torrent of words, he told Henri about his life in Arles. the hours spent in the fields under the boiling sun, painting with a frenzy that grew into a sort of madness. And the staggering walk back to town at sunset over a dusty country road. His easel strapped on his shoulder and yield to his back, the canvas in his hand still wet.
Bouquet - Lily of the valley

Then Gauguin's arrival, the happiness on first met of friendship...There is a knocking on the door.

"Entrée"

As the door open

"VINCENT"

He dropped his tube of paint he held in his hand, snatched his cane.

"When did you arrive? How long are you staying? Come and sit on the couch and let me look at you !

How do you feel?

     While he spoke his eyes flashed their messages to his brain. Yes it was Vincent...

"Yes I was supposed I did" Vincent starred at his knotty hands".

"It almost killed me though, but perhaps it was worth it"

"even in the asylum, can you imagine Henri?"

"Stop talking about it, you all right now."

"But I want to talk about it."

Vincent persists gently " Perhaps if I do. I'll stop thinking about it. It wasn't the seclusion that hard on me.

It was the proximity of most men. Some of them awoke at night. We do need physical distancing.  " Perhaps if I do. I'll stop thinking about it. It wasn't the seclusion that hard on me.

It was the proximity of most men. We do need physical distancing.. Some of them awoke at night and you could hear them cried aloud guards had dragged them away. At the time I felt I was going crazy. Something inside him seemed to have unlocked the floodgates of his speech. In a torrent of words, he told Henri about his life in Arles. the hours spent in the fields under the boiling sun, painting with a frenzy that grew into a sort of madness. And the staggering walk back to town at sunset over a dusty country road. His easel strapped on his shoulder and yield to his back, the canvas in his hand still wet.

Bouquet - Lily of the valley Lily of the ball...Then Gauguin's arrival, the happiness on first met of friendship, their trip together to Avignon, then back in Arles the first quarrels, the arrangement degenerating into brawls, the reconciliations in absinthe at the Cafe de la Gare, the evening at the brothel flung to Gauguin's face, the scuffle, the murder rages

Something inside him seemed to unlocked the floodgates of speech. In a torrent of words. He told Henri about his life in Arles: the hours spend in the fields under the boiling sun. painting with a frenzy that grew into the sort of madness