Copyright 2010 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
So there we were, Edward and I, cruising around Manhattan in true bourgeois style aboard a Circle Line knockoff. Edward was his usual somewhat taciturn self; he didn't say much, but every so often he'd crack a joke about some particularly ugly part of the city as we glided past, crowded cheek by jowl with goggle-eyed Midwesterners and enthusiastic Japanese tourists with expensive cameras slung all over their torsos.
As we started the turn around the lower tip of the island, however, Edward perked up considerably and whipped out a small sketch pad and some crayons. He made some rapid strokes, full of color, and without a word tucked everything away again, back into the capacious pocket of his trench coat.
The next week he rang my bell, carrying a large but narrow rectangular zippered valise. Entering diffidently only as far as the foyer when I opened the door, he mumbled, "Thought you might like to see the sketch."
And here it is, painte...