"Cliffs Near Dieppe," by Claude Monet

I don't care if it is mostly baby-blue; it calls to me.  It's both troubled and serene at once.  It reminds me of the summer of 1990 when I found myself homeless on the beach in Northern France, living off the kindness of German tourists and one Franco-Arab immigrant girl from Egypt, who fed me and gave me a butter knife that I still have.  She said to me one day out of the blue, "Tu vas m'oublier."  And it's true.  I can't even remember her name.