This print graces my living room wall. Two others are in my dining space. And I snagged a little book of Renoir's paintings a few days ago at the second hand shop. When I was in grade ten art, we did a major study of Renoir because an exhibition of his portraits was coming to town. I've always been intrigued by him since. He makes me wish I were a French woman in his era. They all look so sensuous, so competent. But that's alright. I have a little Paris in my apartment, and that's enough for me.