The Ambassador "No to death by explanation; it is through reflex and feeling alone, navel gazing and hand biting We will not live with a jasmine flower stuck behind our ears; orange, forest green, black: these are our tools Silence, varnisher of fools, we are the double-headed medium of what you dare not speak: when the brush trembles the words fall forth, there is no explanation save that of the eternal quadrangle, artist/dealer/collector/cri tic: Grinning elite pushing taste in the face of child-public, do not make us do the job of crush. We will not live with an air-kiss in our heads we live hand to brush."