One ordinary evening, which was occupied by including scrolling album with reproductions of Cézanne, not focusing on any work, but simply resting his eyes, suddenly appeared before me an unfamiliar sensation. Inside his head the image of the picture, look at which slid a few pages back. But this image, unlike the others, which remain in short-term memory for a while after watching, persistently knocking at my mind, surfacing with soft spots and blurred contours, replacing all that has been recently...