Paintings were crowded to the ceiling and others were stacked against each other on the floor.
Several of them were self-portraits, including two nudes.
The painting she had been working on when I came in, the one on the easel, was a half-length nude of herself,
showing her hair long (not the way she wore it now, up in blonde braids coiled around her head like a crown)
down to her shoulders with part of her long tresses twisted around the front and resting between her breasts.
She had painted her breasts uptilted and firm with the nipples an unrealistic lollipop-red.
When I heard her coming back with the beer, I spun away from the easel quickly,
stumbled over some books, and pretended to be interested in a small autumn landscape on the wall.
I was relieved to see that she had slipped into a thin ragged housecoat —even though it had holes in all the wrong places—
and I could look directly at her for the first time.
Not exactly beautiful, but her blue eyes and pert snub nose gave her a catlike quality that contrasted with her robust, athletic movements.
She was about thirty-five, slender and well proportioned.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색