“Twice they passed men Dali knew. Both times the men grunted a greeting, but never mentioned Jinx. As they continued their stroll, Dali became silent and seemingly morose, lost in his thoughts about the painting. Jinx hummed a bouncy tune, stopped to pet a stray dog, sketched a pigeon that perched on a window ledge. "Why are you so happy?" asked Dali at last. "Why shouldn't I be?" she said. "It's a beautiful day, the sun is out, and I am finally getting used to this world, to the pat...terns of its streets and buildings, to the way every single person bears such a striking resemblance to every other person. You don't always find that in my world." "I know," he said. "Perhaps that is why I prefer painting your world to my own." "Have you come up with any ideas yet?" "Either sixty-three or sixty-four, I lost count." He grimaced. "Each was worse than the last." "Well, cheer up. It will come to you." "I wish I had your confidence." They walked another block, and suddenly she stopped humming.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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