His name was Heinz Gaugel. He died in 2000 at 73 years of age, but I met him five years before that, when I was an innocent and starry-eyed twelve. When I entered the studio, he sat with his back to me. A canvas road stretched away from him, with horses and buggies scattered along …

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I awake in the darkness, my mind reaching desperately to remember the second thing—the second part, which made sense of the whole. If I give myself a moment it will come back to me. But it does not, and after a time I cannot recall the first part either, nor what it was part of, …

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