Gwen is living in Paris in a garret suited to her artist's calling. She spends most of her life not painting. Her lover, Rodin, is becoming inattentive…He says to paint while I wait but my jar of brushes remains on the mantelpiece beside the primroses just plucked. A work of art is a little beating heart, a little beating, palpitating heart and I have no palpitations, no beats to spare, not while Rodin is alive.
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