Now the painting does appear to be of this house.
As a matter of fact there also appears to be somebody at the very window, upstairs, from which I watch the sunset.
I had not noticed her at all, before this.
If it is a she. The brushwork is fairly abstract, at that point, so that there is little more than a hint of anybody, really.
Still, it is interesting to speculate suddenly about just who might be lurking at my bedroom window while I am typing down here right below.
Well, and on the wall just above and to the side of me, at the same time.
All of this being merely in a manner of speaking, of course.
Although I have also just closed my eyes, and so could additionally say that for the moment the person was not only both upstairs and on the wall, but in my head as well.
Were I to walk outside to where I can see the window, and do the same thing all over again, the arrangement could become much more complicated than that.
For that matter I have only now noticed something else in the painting.
The door that I generally use, coming and going from the front deck, is open.
Not two minutes ago, I happen to have closed that same door.
Obviously no action of my own, such as that, changes anything in the painting.
Nonetheless I have again just closed my eyes, trying to see if I could imagine the painting with the door to the deck closed.
I was not able to close the door to the deck in the version of the painting in my head.
Had I any pigments, I could paint it closed in the painting itself, should this begin to trouble me seriously.
There are no painting materials in this house.
Unquestionably there would have had to be all sorts of such materials here at one time, however.
Well, with the exception of those that she carried to the dunes, where else would the painter have deposited them?
Now I have made the painter a she, also. Doubtless because of my continued sense of it being a she at the window.
But in either case one may still assume that there must be additional painting materials inside of the house in the painting, even if one cannot see any of them in the painting itself.
As a matter of fact it is no less possible that there are additional people inside of the house as well, above and beyond the woman at my window.
Then again, very likely the others could be at the beach, since it is late on a summer afternoon in the canvas, although no later than four o’clock.
So that next one is forced to wonder why the woman at the window did not go to the beach herself, for that matter.
Although on second thought I have decided that the woman may well be a child.
So that perhaps she had been made to remain at home as a punishment, after having misbehaved.
Or perhaps she was even ill.
Possibly there is nobody at the window in the canvas.
At four o’clock I will try to estimate exactly where at the dunes the painter took her perspective, and then see how the shadows fall, up there.
Even if I will be forced to guess at when it is four o’clock, there being no clocks or watches in this house, either.
All one will have to do is to match the real shadows on the house with the painted shadows in the painting, however.
Although perhaps the real shadows at the window when I go out will not solve a thing in regard to the painting.
Perhaps I will not go out.
Once, I believed I saw somebody at a real window, while I am on the subject.
David Markson, Wittgenstein’s Mistress, 1988.