suddenly wanted to know what happened next in a Rembrandt painting that he didn’t understand. (No one understands it, there’s a world of difference between Artemisa and Sophonisba, the difference between drinking the ashes of a dead man and drinking death, between celebrating life and dying, between prolonging life and killing oneself). It was absurd, but Ranz still kept trying to reason with him: “But you know that’s not possible, Mateu,” he said. “The three figures are painted, can’t you see that? Painted. You’ve seen plenty of films and this isn’t a film. You must see that there’s no way
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