a grande dame

Many years ago, I think in 1977, I fled my boyfriend, driving his Fiat from Illinois to W. 78th St. in New York City, to Paula's apartment. The car was immediately towed away, of course. I slept in Paula's daughter's room—Gaby was about 7 at the time—for about three months while I looked for a job. I also began this painting of Paula, whom I had met in the People copy room.
   I found a job, wound up moving into Douglas's apartment and the painting was never finished. I cut this part of it out years later, framed it and gave it to Paula. It may have been the last painting I worked on, as I came to realize I didn't have the chops as an artist.
   But Paula and I are working on 45 years of friendship now.