I scour the grainy footage of a seductive 60s film, watching as my elusive starlet, clad in a white robe, places individual red roses in a vase as she flirts with a rugged monk. When the scene comes to an end, my eyes dart around my screen as I rewind and fast forward the footage. What stands out? The roses do, of course, but there’s a painting of our leading actor that has particularly caught my attention.
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