Monet spent seven winters in Argenteuil. Six regular French ones, and then 1874-75, brutal even by European standards. And every winter, he loved the cold a little more. Or maybe not the cold itself, but what it leaves behind. Snow, frost, ice. So many surfaces for light to land on. So many ways to be white. He just had to be fast. Frost doesn't wait for anyone. By noon, it's gone. Do you see white as one color, or a hundred?
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