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Funny this, how sometimes the walls can have mouths, or at least messages, as well as ears.
Just 60 seconds before, and literally around the corner from my first meeting with Miss.Tic, the legendary Parisienne street artist, and wouldn't you say this guy was thinking 'What the hell do you think you're doing, staring at my wall, punk?'
Not the most confidence inspiring of portents, but highly apposite nevertheless, considering I'm about to chat to the highest wall warrioress (and convicted criminal) of them all.
And our rendezvous went roaringly. Maybe I misread this Monsieur's misgivings about my meeting with the mysterious Miss.Tic. Maybe he was saying 'Knock her dead, matey!'
When asked if she lives from her art, she noted that that would be vastly preferable to dying from it. I would have expected nothing less.
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© 2010 Sab Will / Paris Set Me Free - Contact me directly for photo tours, interviews, exhibitions, etc.
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