The general consensus in art class is that at least my Italian is getting better.

"You still can't speak," Antonio says, "but you understand things now."

"Well, about half," I say.

"Oh, no," he says, encouragingly, "three-quarters!"

The model for this drawing of hands was amazed to find out that I am sixty years old.

"You look so young!" she said.

"It's the Italian way of life," I said. "So tranquil -- it keeps you young."

"I don't think so," she said. "I'm Italian and I look terrible."

It is difficult to know what exactly to say to a completely naked woman who tells you she looks terrible while a whole roomful of elderly men watch. Especially when you have a limited grasp of the language you are speaking. I mean, I guess you can never be too complimentary to naked people, but it can feel awkward.

Then we had to stop talking because Antonio was trying to paint her mouth.

It was probably for the best.