“For the longest time I thought that one represented a handheld mirror, then a young lady from one of the universities nearby told me that it was most definitely an Egyptian ankh. Now I don’t know which it is. I tell you, the funny thing is, when I leave here at night I will often think about Ms. Elan’s work, while I’m cooking my supper or lying in bed about to sleep. I think of it, but I can never remember exactly what these pieces look like. Isn’t that a puzzler? I sit here five days a week and I study them, trying to memorize every curl and bend, but once I leave this room, my memories change. The pieces become something different than what they were. Neithernor…” the old man’s mind was drifting.

“Maybe it’s like the Hindus with their neti neti, ‘not this, not that,’” he continued. “Talented artist, she is. I’d like to show you my favourite of her creations, a sofa with teeth, but it sold in August.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to boast about my relation to the artist, but I didn’t.

“It’s clear she’s been successful, given that this gallery showing is all hers.”

The man’s head drooped as if ashamed. “We’re a consignment gallery, sir. We’d pay our artists if we could though. Surely we would.”

“She lives locally you said?” I returned, changing the subject.

“Well, her representatives do at the very least. They deliver me new pieces every few weeks or so.”

“Her works do sell then?”

“Occasionally. To tourists mostly. Slow time right now, being the off-season.”

“Could I trouble you for Ms. Elan’s contact information? I’m the arts and culture writer for the Mirror and I’m always looking to educate my readers on the more unique goings-on outside of the city.”

“A writer! Well, well, well. But you have me at a disadvantage, sir. Vera is a very private woman.”

I nodded. “That’s fine. Might I leave you my information so that Vera or her representatives can contact me if they wish?”

“Yes, yes.”

I produced my card then made my way to the door.

Prior to exiting, I posed one last question to the owner.

“Yes,” the man confirmed, “yes, every piece is, sir. Copper wire and human hair, that’s Ms. Elan’s medium. As I said, sir, you’ve a keen eye. Very keen.”

2.