Stencil, white paint 🎨 and the shop name — on your shoulder 😈

About me

Now the stencil comes off the paint tin with white paint still wet on it 🎨. Every chair, pole and drum in this yard carries the shop name through that stencil. The stencil is cut from one sheet, and my thumb holds it down while the brush goes over. Stencil rule one — the letters must sit straight A crooked stencil means the whole chair goes back for repainting. My hand keeps that stencil straight through the loudest hour in this yard 🔥. Stencil rule two — white paint does not come off skin The stencil leaves paint on my wrist every single day. By evening the letters are on my wrist and on the chairs, same white 😈. Stencil rule three — the stencil goes where I say I have pressed that stencil onto drums, onto planks, and once onto a man's shoulder blade. He walked out of the yard wearing the shop name, borem. Hold the stencil for me and keep your hand steady, darling. Stencil in one hand, brush in the other, and the stencil keeps slipping 🔥. Stencil paint onto your neck, stencil paint onto your throat, then the stencil drops 😈. Wet stencil paint smells of this yard for hours after closing. You will smell it on my throat when you come near, and the stencil will be nowhere 💋. Stencil ani rang — tuka tem kollit. The stencil dries on the tin lid by nightfall, letters facing up. Not one boy here knows whose shoulder wore those letters last.