I wonder if Quentin was screaming in agony about the Astro-turf he was lying on or whatever they called fake grass in those days.
Beth on Widow’s Hill. Nice scenario of Maine’s rocky cliffs, but she isn’t looking straight down. Now here’s the thing. If I were trying to persuade someone that was afraid of me who was teetering on the edge of a cliff not to jump, I would move backward. But that’s just me.
I swear the two most sentences on this show are, “I don’t understand”, quickly followed by, “What do you mean?”
Trust me, Quentin. Booze will not bring back your loved one.
Beth is gone, in a most dismal way, but let us focus on the Portrait. It is very close to “The Pen” scenario. It reeks of Roger’s incapacity to care.
Aristede is a punk and a minion. Albeit, a well-dressed minion.
If he’s gone a whole week without food, how is he even able to stand?
The thing about the Aristede and Petofi relationship always challenged my mental prowess. What exactly was going on here? I can guess, but I don’t want to delve too deeply into it. EW!
All right. Charles Delaware Tate. Gad! I’m an artist. I paint. I make a mess at times. But never, in all my born days, have I worn a smock. And the smock that RD is wearing looks like a woman’s smock.
RD is ineffectual as an artist. Trust me.
Portrait, portrait, where is the portrait?
Barnabas is still wearing that breakaway frock coat. I am screaming for him to raise his arms to see if the seams hold.