The Michelangelo on my wall

When I first visited Florence, in my early twenties, I went to the Casa Buonarotti museum and bought this print of a sketch that hangs on the wall there. Years later, I went back and was startled to see the real picture again: my print had become so embedded in my visual imagination that I thought of it as a thing in itself, unduplicated. And now, even more years later, it still hangs on my wall.