How did I get here? I am mounted on a hard, wooden saddle, my back is arched painfully backwards. This crazy old man . . . Hofhausen . . . he polishes me. He tells me, I must look good for the guests tonight. I am entertainment for the idle elite. I am living art, in the truest sense. One acquires art, by acquiring the person who performs it. Who is my owner? Where is my owner? How much did he pay for me - to be here like this? Was it enough, or did I sell myself too cheap? I want my owner to get every penny's worth out of me. I want to be the latex David or Venus, a living statue people admire, talk about and amuse themselves with. This is my highest calling, my truest act. I want to perform well for my owner and guests