Cigarolla Golden Poet
chimneys and the poems sold like Impressionist masters.
One day, in bed with 15 women, he decided he'd had enough of sex and went off to live a Zen monastery with a minimalist lifestyle. The meaning of life eluded him although it was written in the DNA of every living thing and he lay on his back thinking of well nothing at all.
One night, pressed between the leaves of a Haiku anthology, he found a £50 note. Cigerolla wasn't impressed, he knew the folly of money and it's superficiality. He'd read Engels's "Critique of Political Economy" for a poetry exercise .
" Trade means that everyone must try to sell as dear as possible and to buy as cheaply as possible, so that whenever buying or selling occurs two men (or women) with diametrically opposed interests confront each other. The confrontation is decidedly antagonistic... " he recited from heart.
He poured himself a glass of water and read the Haiku. He thought about his secular lifestyle, the women and the golden car. He decided to paint his minimalism golden and give the car away to the homeless cause.
Some thought Cigarolla was a fictional character and it hurt. 'Being fictional is kinda lonely' he'd say but one day he realised that everyone was fictional, acting out the rituals of social living with its plots and dramas and character tests.
Cigarolla wasn't the kind of character to go along with any story or plot and just kinda buggered off without so much as a word.....
Text by Trev Teasdel