I am fascinated by this painting, for so many reasons. Because of when and where it was painted (1864-65 Italy, by Federico Faruffini) and how cool and and empowered the young woman looks with a book in one hand and a slow burning cigarette in the other. Because it conveys so effectively the sexiness inherent in reading, the carnality of knowledge. Because of the quiet passion that curves its way through hues of red. Because of how bohemian and alchemical the scene feels with the decanter and the unruly piles of books. And because it feels so far removed from the Italy of today.

(Thanx to Bruce Sterling for unearthing this gem)