The Woman She Was

Начало книги

CELIA was sure that she had not fainted, hallucinated, nor suffered an altered state. She had simply—what? Carefully, as if reviewing a patient’s case history, she tried to reconstruct what had happened.

As on previous visits, she had first examined the small museum’s paltry exhibits: a few articles of clothing, a worn leather purse, the dented aluminium canteen that Sánchez was said to have carried during her years as a rebel leader. Then she had turned her attention to the portraits. Although done by different artists, each had rendered the face with a flatness that stripped the subject of personality. Celia guessed that this was because the paintings were copied from photographs, Sánchez having never posed for a portrait. Still, what was the matter with those men? Couldn’t they see who she was? Celia turned away from each painting with the feeling one gets upon discovering that essential parts of an important book have been blacked out.

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