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About Jonkoping

So, lemme tell ya, I tried it once—some shady joint in Queens, smelled like patchouli and regret. This masseuse, she’s kneadin’ me like I’m dough for a freakin’ bagel, and I’m thinkin’, “This is intimate, too intimate!” Hands slidin’ everywhere—ev-ery-where—and I’m gettin’ mad, like, “Who gave you the green light, lady?!” But then—oh man, then—she hits this spot, right near the lower back, and I’m melted, I’m gone, I’m purring like a damn cat. Pretty, pretty good, I’ll admit it! Still, I’m paranoid—did she wash her hands? Is this sanitary? I’m a mess!

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After that, I’m feeling all inspired, so I head back to my studio. I’m pumped to work on my textures. But then, I realize I left my sketchbook at the café. Nooo! I race back, and thankfully, it’s still there. I grab it, and the barista gives me a thumbs up. I’m like, “You’re a lifesaver, dude!”

Marjan van Aubel creates indoor solar light to usher in "solar democracy"