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Geneviève tells me that one of the women I drew, the brunette, is not well.

–What’s wrong with her?
– I don’t know. It’s not easy to live on the street. She was all sad, sitting on a bench.

A few months later, I’ll be standing on the metro platform, on line 6. The train arrives, the doors open, and I see my brown-haired model. I barely recognize her, because she has changed so much. This hurt me.

Today a gardener from the city of Paris, both beneficiary and volunteer, tells me that he saw an exhibition at the Musée d’Orsay, “Masculin/Féminin”. There were only paintings of naked men. Yes, completely naked! It shocked him.

Gallery