Exhibit 1: Photo of Saidie May’s Park Lane Apartment

Photo of Saidie May's Park Lane Apartment showing Renoir hanging on the wall

Photo of collector Saidie May’s Park Lane Apartment. Renoir’s “On the Shore of the Seine” hangs top left.

By Jan Ryan

Honestly, you didn’t protect me well. You let me go out with anyone, the sick woman, anyone, acting like it would be a wonderful experience for me. The patriarch said I was the best thing that ever happened to them. And then I was with them. They were my people. How were you to know that the prettiest one would end up alone and impoverished, discarded in a box of knickknacks at a flea market? Well let me assure you I witnessed plenty of secret adventures before I became too much of a liability.

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5 thoughts on “Exhibit 1: Photo of Saidie May’s Park Lane Apartment

  1. Pingback: Contours of a thief. | BMA Blog

  2. JH Walsh

    The theft, she would tell them, ah, that part was easy. An old woman’s cough had broken her reverie--a warm day in Paris, a walk along the Seine with him, their arms barely touching, a straw hat shading her pale skin. Why go to an art museum when you are sick? Better to stay home on a cold, rainy day. She saw the woman fall to the polished floor and felt a breeze as the guard rushed past. No eyes saw her lift the sketch from its hook, tuck it under her coat and slip quietly out of the gallery.

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  3. Jan Ryan

    Honestly, you didn't protect me well. You let me go out with anyone, the sick woman, anyone, acting like it would be a wonderful experience for me. The patriarch said I was the best thing that ever happened to them. And then I was with them. They were my people. How were you to know that the prettiest one would end up alone and impoverished, discarded in a box of knickknacks at a flea market? Well let me assure you I witnessed plenty of secret adventures before I became too much of a liability.

    Vote(5)
  4. Marianne Amoss

    At the front door, a knocking: rap rap rap. She startled, the teacup rattled. The cat zipped under the chair.

    Who on earth, at this hour, on this day?

    Her eyes went to the painting—transfixing, transporting, even after all this time. Its warmth shone into the darkened room, its life the only life left.

    Stealthy and swift to the window, to part the curtain just so. Down below, a man dressed all in black. He'd spotted her! He leapt to the door, pounding. Madame! Open up at once!

    Vote(3)
  5. Pingback: Contours of a Thief, the final pages…

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