The queue of the Albert Heyn supermarket
I am sure you know the feeling, busy, busy, busy, hardly any time to do your shopping and assorted household things like the washing-up or your laundry, after all time is money...
For me, a dedicated streetseller who sticks to the rules of my licence, "you can only sell what your own hands fabricate", not like all these Eastern Europeans on Leidseplein and Rembrantplein downtown selling hunderts of prints, Amsterdam city sights on plain old Xeroxed cheap paper - two euro a print and sold as originals for twenty or thirty-five euro...yeah, lets bullshit our dear foreign tourists their hard earned holiday out of the tourist pockets...for me time is money, every game made is a game sold after all!!!
No, there is me here in the endlessly long Albert Heyn supermarket line, trying hard to wait patiently for my turn to pay my shopping, a bottle of Mooi Kaap for in front of my telly tonight and a Magnetron Surinam Nasi pork wrapped in transparent plastic at special discount, trying hard not to let my impatience show, my frustration with this old hag who holds up the whole line of equally desperated office stiffs, that old d*rned woman spending most of her days behind the proverbial Geraniums, her pension maybe well deserved but no reason to show the whole line of shoppers the colored of her underwear through the worn fabric of her cheap shorts while bending forward to hassle that six year old kid who clings fearfully to his Mum's bare legs...
Well, unlike the office stiffs I have my sketchbook and markers, my black pen and artistic mind to chase away frustration and desperation alike...