The portrait is of a figure seen from behind, and the figure is you, and she has been painting it for four months without telling you.

Her aids are on the stool. You know better than to talk.

She turns, sees you, and does not cover it.

RosaI paint people I can't say things to.

You sign badly: then say it.

The laugh is out of her before she can stop it, and then she is signing back too fast for you and slower, and too fast again.