motorcycles are the soundtrack of hell - the blackbird in satan's empire

Arie van den Berg calls Eva Gerlach's poetry grand, and I am sure he is right. But I'd rather talk about the author at the bottom of the page. I am very happy I got to do Eva Gerlach in colour, don't get me wrong, but Herman! Herman Brusselmans! Why didn't they have me draw him! I would kill to draw Herman. Herman is a phenomenon. We have spent five years in Ghent, the same town Herman lives in. He was always really nice to people calling out to him in the street. Herman, autograph! That'll be 500 franks! I know a funny story about Herman. Part of his novel "Uitgeverij Guggenheimer" was set in a street around the corner from where we lived. In the novel a doctor lives in that street, and his daughter is a junkie punk whore. Now in real life, only one single doctor lived in that street. And he did have a daughter. She wasn't a junkie or a whore, but she certainly was a very extravagantly dressed punk. So one day, while chatting with the doctor's wife, I mention what I had read. The doctor's wife didn't immediately know what to say, but she looked pretty shocked. That same night after dinner, the doorbell rang. The doctor. Could he borrow the book. (He couldn't buy it, because a court order had banned the book. Herman had written about the pubic hair of a famous fashion designer. According to Herman it grew half way up her back, and the fashion designer had not appreciated that passage.) When the doctor returned the book I asked him what he thought. He told me he had told his daughter that this was what came of it, if you walk around looking the way she did.