Even when you bullied me in your younger years, when you turned your back to me, I loved you. I’d hide in my room and wonder, crying, asking myself ...hy, how could you be so cruel to me? Mom and dad just said it was a boy thing, that you were growing up. It was normal that you wouldn’t hold my hand when we walked anymore, that you didn’t want the other boys to see you with your older sister, that you didn’t want to play with me. I hated it. I wanted things back to the way they were. Mom and dad. ’ Orcutt moved to examine Sarah’s canvas so fresh that the scent of oil and turp filled his nose. For the moment his connoisseur’s instincts triumphed over his mission and he regarded the painting with some fascination. ‘This is something more than a blossom I take it. It would appear to be charged with a certain sensuality such as one might find about the person of another woman perhaps.’ ‘I always say it’s what the viewer brings to the painting not what the artist puts into it that gives it. More

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