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FN Souza, but I called him Francis.
He was all in one.
Some called him satanic and some could not stand his guts.
He couldn’t give a shit.
He would bombard with a mischievous twitch on the edge of his lips.
He was forthright and all up there.
His eyes were like a hawk – bulging.
His face was pock marked and he would penetrate his ideas and prove.
He stood alone without a crutch.
He was a tall artist and a short fellow
But his presence was towering.
His writing was as sharp as his black line drawings.
Behind his veneer of arrogance
There was tenderness and affection.
His signature later became larger than his canvas.
He was a typical Goan catholic who cashed on Christ stories.
He was one of the few who laughed at his own work.
He was radical, slapped his professor and was thrown out of JJ.
The progressive group did not last but books were written on the group.
He amused himself with many muses.
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