23Florence, May 1475
«For heaven’s sake, what are you doing?»
I jump at Amerigo’s words as he closes the door behind him. Entering the posing room, he finds me standing still, my hands smeared in colour, contemplating a wooden panel leaning against a wall, also stained with paint that was still dripping from it. I had covered the ground with cloth to avoid staining the floor and a sponge soaked in paint is on the cloth.
«Sandro told me to come because he has some news for me. But I see he is not back from the Palazzo yet».
«I was concentrating. I did not hear you come in», I justify myself.
«Is what I am thinking true?» His eyes quickly take in my dirty hands, the sponge and the dripping panel. «Did you throw a sponge, soaked in colour, against that panel?»
«The Master suggests throw
