Sarah opened the door to my knock, and knocked the wind out of me. She wore a filmy multicolored skirt, rather long, that looked like it might have been painted by Gauguin. A yellow gauzy top complemented it.
"Can you come in a minute?" she asked. "I have something I'd like to show you."
Inside her modest flat, the walls were hung with Impressionist reproductions - mostly photographic, but a few lithographs, including Renoir's black study of Richard Wagner, and a Redon head of Christ with a crown of thorns - also black on white paper.
"Cheaper than color," she explained, when I noted she seemed to favor black-and-white original prints.
But the miracle of the place was the floor. It was covered with books.
"I didn't know you lived in a library," I said.
Sarah smiled. "I was quite an academic in a former mutation," she said. "I've been racking my brain over your pictures of the alleged Monet. After I left you I almost went nuts, and I didn't know why. Now I do. Here." She picked two books off the floor and the larger fell down again.
"Those books are too big to hold," I said. "I'll come to the books." I dropped to the floor and she came down with a liquid motion, as though she were creame frache.
"Look at this," she said, pointing to the two-page spread of a Monet painting called Rue Montorgueil, painted in 1878. It had lots of colored flags, all red, white and blue (for France), on multistory buildings. The Monet in question was similar, but while this scene seemed to be in spring or summer, our painting was a winter scene.
"Now look at this," Sarah said, showing me a picture of View of London at Night. The book said it was painted by Monet after 1900. He was teetering toward the abstract, Sarah said. "Look at the spots of bright color on the dreary background of dark buildings and dark sky."
"Yes," I said. I saw what she was talking about, but I didn't know what she was getting at.
"Now look at this," she said, pulling another book center stage. It was opened to a picture of a painting called Afternoon on the Avenue, 1917, also known as Flags, Afternoon on the Avenue.
Then it hit me. My Monet picture was a clever conglomeration of all three.
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