Eleana Racksea was somebody you would see regularly if you frequented the quays and wharves of Port Naain. She painted. Now this city boasts a lot of painters, some of them good, some of them ‘experimental’. To be fair to Eleana she fell firmly into the former category. She did not produce bizarre daubs and then claim that the only reason you couldn’t grasp their artistic significance was your abysmal ignorance.
Eleana painted proper pictures. When you looked at them you knew exactly what they depicted, and even in her street scenes you could often recognise individuals. Thus in one picture one could see, walking along the wharf, Chesit Quince. It could only be him, immaculate in powder blue knee britches and spotless white shirt which had lace cascading down the front. Also nobody else is likely to carry an anvil under his arm.
Eleana was the daughter of a…
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