When I was a kid, my dentist’s office offered wonderful attractions: laughing gas, a treasure chest of trinkets and, in the waiting room, a painting of a solitary woman. The copy of Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World” always intrigued.
When I was a kid, my dentist’s office offered wonderful attractions: laughing gas, a treasure chest of trinkets and, in the waiting room, a painting of a solitary woman. The copy of Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World” always intrigued.