A Painting at the Gallery Looked Exactly Like My Daughter – But When I Met the Artist, I Couldn’t Believe My Eyes

exhibition.”

“My daughter died three years ago,” I said, loud enough for nearby people to turn. “That is her face. That is her birthmark. Why does that plaque say self-portrait?”

The woman drew a careful breath.

“I’m Andrea, the coordinator. The artist is here somewhere.”

“Then take me to her.”

Tracy caught my wrist. “Tanya, slow down.”

“No.” I pulled free.continue reading …