Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red Blue

Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red BlueVincent van Gogh The SowerVincent van Gogh The Night CafeVincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night
couple of people at the next stall were looking at Mort thoughtfully. His mind went into overdrive.
'My master travels a lot,' he said, truthfully. 'We arrived last night, and I was asleep on the cart. Now I've got the afternoon off.'
'Ah,' said the The stallholder regarded Mort critically, noting the pale face, well-cut clothes and strange presence, a sort of coiled spring effect.
'Look, I'll be frank,' he said. 'I could point you in the direction of a great brothel.'
'I've already had lunch,' said Mort, vaguely. 'But you can tell me if stallholder. He leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Looking for a good time, are you? I could fix you up.''I'd quite enjoy knowing where I am,' Mort conceded.The man was taken aback.'This is Ankh-Morpork,' he said. 'Anyone ought to be able to see that. Smell it, too.'Mort sniffed. There was a certain something about the air in the city. You got the feeling that it was with every breath that thousands of other people were very close to you and nearly all of them had armpits.