Mick appears to like to draw radishes, since I've received a number of cards so decorated by him. They are delicate simple little things, I think (maybe) connected to the plucking of these beasts from the grip of the earth at the end of the season of growth.
But the real "text" of this card appears to be the revers, where a bit of pencil frottage, a couple of pasted slips of paper (one enworded), and a dullish splash of silver ink come together to form a new nude crescending a staircase. The text entrances me a bit--not quite a question, certainly not a statement, it floats withing this field of corners looking for a place.
un violon d'ingres