Warhol took his sketch pad out to where the worst flooding had been. He loved drawing and painting destruction and ruins. Someday he wanted to go to Greece and Italy to paint the ruins.
A tall woman with short, straight hair noticed what he was doing. "Hmmm," she said. "You have a nice touch. You captured the essence of that fallen tree."
"Thank you," Warhol said. The woman looking over his shoulder made him nervous.
"You have a nice body," she said.
"I do?" he squeaked.
"Yes. I would like to see more of it. You see, I am also an artist. But I do not paint old trees. I paint gorgeous creatures like you."
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