There's a famous portrait in Rialto - he's seen copies - the Maiden Calculating. A blonde woman sits in classical three-quarters, arranged against a neutral slate of grey. Her eyes seem almost to move with the viewer, in sympathy, or perhaps confusion. Its reproduction alongside mathematical formulae came into vogue for a period of time.
He thinks of her now, that anonymous sitter. Wonders if she'd look half so lost.
no subject
There's a famous portrait in Rialto - he's seen copies - the Maiden Calculating. A blonde woman sits in classical three-quarters, arranged against a neutral slate of grey. Her eyes seem almost to move with the viewer, in sympathy, or perhaps confusion. Its reproduction alongside mathematical formulae came into vogue for a period of time.
He thinks of her now, that anonymous sitter. Wonders if she'd look half so lost.
"Your cell,"
Lazar prompts. What the fuck, dude.