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I was painting one morning when the first arrived. He was a plump, ginger guy with a skeptical air. He appraised the canvas knowingly and then sat in my studio for most of the day, gazing pointedly off somewhere. Later that day the second appeared, a dark and handsome brute. He was more disarming. He sat and stared keenly at me and perused my work thoroughly but never said a word. The third was supple, dusky and seemed more relaxed about her duties. She took one glance at me when she arrived on the scene, examined my palette over-casually, and then curled up immediately in the corner and fell asleep. It seemed that my critics had it far too easy. So I gave them
something to think about the next time they dropped by with their noses
in the air. I painted all three then hung the portraits in my gallery
with this accompanying note:
1. Actually take a look
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