Little Miss Warhol.


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The last time I received an MMS of what Shea drew ... it was a get well card for Ziwei when he was in the hospital. It looked like a tough beefy wrestler with the anarchist sign in his forehead. It turned out to be a doctor with a medic hat thingamajig.

Oops ... Ah duh ...

An earlier MMS was of a massacre with women huddled together and a woman peering in from the window, laughing as they got gassed or someting. It turned out to be children sitting on the floor with the Chinese teacher standing in front of the blackboard.

Oops ... Ah duh duh ...

Hence today when I received an MMS, I made sure I came home in time to take a picture of it before it perishes into chalk dust on her squegee. Here's her latest masterpiece.

Junction 8. MRT trains. Pedestrians. Traffic light.

And no ... they are not buried nor is this a cross-section of hell's levels. Kill those morbid thoughts lah, only I'm entitled to them.

This is primitive perspective, for lack of a horizon and a vanishing point.

May you realise those artist dreams your mummy never got to.

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      • I'm Abigael
      • From Singapore

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