We reach the town of Angoulême in New Aquitaine on the Cheronte River in the late afternoon. The sun is slowly setting down, a gentle wind blows, the boulevards are emptying, and in the restaurants becoming more and more crowded, the dîner time begins. We admire the Romanesque cathedral, Town hall, defensive walls, and then we stroll trough the winding streets.
On one of them we notice the shop for artists and after a while we enter the magical world filled with the smell of resin, herbs and wax. Rows of tall shelves are placed under the walls, and on them one can find various tubes, bottles filled with paints, varnishes, solvents and impregnates.
This spacious room also hides a workshop, where canvas and painting looms are created. A polite elderly gentleman in elegant French explains which acrylic paint is in his opinion the best option, we exchange opinions on the colors as well. In such unusual circumstances I betray black and white. Gold and Red Ochre come back to Warsaw with me. They are filled with new creative energy. So am I.
