I'm a poor lonesome painter and I'm far away from Oz

Hi there.

here I am in Paris trying to find a place such as the one I left in Erko last year.
I.e. a lost paradise called alpha, where I had a house to live in along with a bunch of cool (most of'em) mad (aaaall of'em:) a studio space to do any artistic experiment in, and a really nice suburb around to jump around on some of these days...
... and now after eight months, still looking for a painting studio and a job, I can tell you guys and grrlz, keep on dreaming of Paris, because this is not the funny place you think it is.

Do you know that joke about a bloke who's getting bored as hell after an eternity in paradise? He asks for a holiday and has extra good time in heaven. Now, after coming back to paradise and enduring an unbearable eternity of boring bliss, he decides he wants to go back to hell for one more holiday.
'- Ok you can, man', St Peter says, 'but you can never come back. It's definite.'
'- No worries, Sir' the dude utters, full of anticipation.
And jumps in hell again.
But this time, he's greated by kicks in the ass, he's chained and put to work on a filthy industrial line.
'-Hey what's wrong here, am I not at the great place I was before?' he asks to one of the brutes guarding him and other damned. And the other, kicking him again in the chest:
'-Arh, arh, arh! can't you tell the difference between holiday and migration?!'