Andrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life painting

Andrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life paintingAndrew Atroshenko Just for Love paintingEdward Hopper Sunday painting
_. -- And when his father was being washed, his body rolled this way and that at the mullah's command, the flesh bruised and slabby, the appendix scar long and brown, Salahuddin recalled the only other time in his when he'd seen his physically demure father naked: he'd been nine years old, blundering into a bathroom where Changez was taking a shower, and the sight of his father's penis was a shock he'd never forgotten. That thick squat organ, like a club. O the power of it; and the insignificance of his own. . . "His eyes won't close," the mullah complained. "You should have done it before." He was a stocky, pragmatic fellow, this mullah with his mous-- tacheless beard. He treated the dead body as a commonplace thing, needing washing the way a car does, or a window, or a dish. "You are from London? Proper London? -- I was