Piet Mondrian Avond Evening Red Tree painting

Piet Mondrian Avond Evening Red Tree paintingTalantbek Chekirov Tender Passion paintingTalantbek Chekirov Missing You painting
profane. It struck Saladin as a gloomy sort of place, for all its white walls, recessed spotlights and wall-to--wall shag--pile carpeting. There were man suffering from paranoid delusions of being the chief archangel of God, Chamcha reflected, it wouldn't have been his own first choice. The Freekirk was set a little apart from the dozen or so other stone--and--tile houses that made up the community: isolated even within this isolation. Gibreel was standing at the door, a shadow against the illuminated hallway, when the car pulled up. "You got here," he shouted. "Yaar, too good. Welcome to bloody jail."
The drugs made Gibreel clumsy. As the three of them sat around the pitch-pine kitchen table beneath the gentrified pulldown dimmer-he was ostentatiously off booze; Allie, pouring two generous shots of Scotch, kept Chamcha company), and, cursing, stumbled about the kitchen for paper-towels to mop up the mess. "When I get sick of being this way Ijust cut down without telling her," he confessed