I'm sat upstairs in Colette's writing the shoot-out between Cherokee and Milo. The walls are exposed brick and white plaster. Bare floorboards. A seventeenth-century building with small square windows like a monk's cell. Sparse furnishings. With the particular kind of light you get in here, I'm reminded of that Vermeer painting. You know, the one with the serving girl at the window with the water pitcher.
Its like I'm in that painting.
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