Spadina streetcar, with perfect posture.

Caucasian woman, early 40s, wearing a leopard print coat with fluffy cuffs and brown corduroys. She has big, brown saucer eyes out of a caricature.

False Impression, Jeffrey Archer (St. Martins Press)

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Nakamura turned and smiled at Anna.

"And you know only too well," he added, "that Van Gogh painted the original while looking in a mirror, which is why the bandage ended up on the wrong ear."

She couldn't draw or paint. Pottery class had produced only a lump of clay covered in curly bits, a monster that sat in the sunroom collecting dust. She turned to mounting, mistaking the patience to hang things straight and centred on a wall for artistic integrity. She was also quite skilled with double-sided tape. And if you needed someone to line your drawers, she was your girl.

It was around her sixth commission to hang wallpaper for an extended family member that she decided she would take another crack at creative ventures. And so, this is how she came to find herself one early Saturday morning, her face covered in petroleum jelly, a complete stranger crisscrossing strips of fabric over her entire head, straws stuck up her nose to aid breathing.

Keep Toronto Reading. February 1-28, 2007