Marc Chagall, I and the Village, Museum of Modern Art, New York

Madame directed me to look at a large recent painting she called I and the Village, in which a man's green profile faced a cow's head almost nose to nose. From man's eyeball to cow's eyeball, a fine thread connected them. It had to be the thread of love, I decided.

Laid over the cow's jaw was a tiny woman milking a cow her size, and in the background, a peasant with a scythe over his shoulder was walking toward an upside-down woman. Behind them was a row of houses, some also upside-down.

"Separate moments," I said.

"But a single vision."

"Why are some things upside-down?"

Apparently she sensed that this wasn't criticism, only inquiry, because she tried to explain. "There is a contradiction to every statement, the questioning of belief, and often the shattering of everything we hold to be certain."