Herman wrote me a nice e-mail after seeing the installation pictures from my shows at Galerie e.l Bannwarth and Bourouina Gallery.

Your work in Paris and Berlin looks much more angry than before. For the first time, I see very clearly the  the closed circuit  of the system in your work. I see the strategy of the capitalism and its opposition together - in the same image, in the same sentence. Before these two shows, your work was funny with some sharp hooks, now it is serious, hard, painful, incorrect, correct, lifelike, hard, soft, tasty,nasty...

Traveling is torture and it's diificult to understand that some people do it voluntarily and just for fun. When Amel left me in the hundred meter long check-in line at the Berlin Tegel Airport, she promised that for my third show in the gallery, she books my flights in the business class. The message was, that she believes thatI'm going to be a big artist and she's going to be a huge gallerist.

On Monday, my last day in Berlin, we tried to find solutions for transporting the LVMH Molotov cocktails to the collectors. One idea was to replace the liquid (it's not gasoline but the cheapest brandy from Lidl) with a jelly but we are not Ferran Adrià and we weren't able to produce anything solid with Dr. Oetker gelatin powders. Actually, the incendiary weapons are not sold but they appeared in Frankfurter Allgemeine, a conservative right-wing German national newspaper and I'm sure that now many repulsive Teuton capitalists want to buy the cool and subversive art works.

On Wedesday, I almost cried because the show was too big, I had too much work to do and not enough time. I went to Gudi's grillfesten but I was too tired to meet new people. Thursday was much better, Detlev was helping me and he is the fastest and the most efficient person that i've worked with. I wish I could have him always with me. That night we celebrated and had three bottles of champagne - I needed the bottles for my LVMH Molotov Cocktails. Amel complained that she doesn't like Moet & Chandon and I said that we can then just throw the content away, I just needed the empty bottles.

In the morning, I don't know anymore where I wake up. I left Paris last Friday. On Saturday, we went to Carlota's name giving party and then to Gabriela and Roberto's wedding but escaped after the dinner - the Spanish weddings include dancing and heavy drinking until seven o'clock in the morning. On Sunday, I catched my flight to Berlin but before that my daughter sprayed corrosive fireplace window cleaner in her eye and we speeded to the hospital.

Now in Berlin, I'm painting a pig on the Bourouina Gallery wall. It's the biggest painting I've ever done (if you don't count the Louis Vuitton monograms last August at Korjaamo). The funny thing is that meanwhile, I have a professional painter painting the walls of my house. I just hope that I'm going to earn more than him.

The opening was fun. Emilie had got many bottles of Finlandia Vodka but to my astonishment they were all with lime, mango and grapefruit flavor - not exactly Finnish. We had dinner at Nonno that served Southwestern French style food what was just like in home: chorizo, salchichon, morcilla and jamon. Of course, cheese was ten times better than in Spain. I shared the table with my three gallerists: Emilie, Amel and Bert. Emilie said that she had sold several works - almost sure. I said to my gallerists that I don't want to know anything about the sales before I get the money.

After the dinner, we went to a discotheque called Favela Chick - the name is terrible, Concentration Camp Cool would sound equally fun. After that place Emilie and her friends moved to Baron where she had taken me too on Saturday but I decided to stay drinking beer in a terrace with Jari and Antti. Finnish male artists don't dance.