One upon a time there was a determined geriatric author struggling with the marketing of her second novel. She had already dealt lethal blows to the three demons of writer's block, editorial torture and galley proofing, running that gauntlet unscathed and with a tale to be proud of at the end. But, great sadness, it lacked suitable ornament for its title page.
So once more into the fray she swept to find the perfect picture. More hills and dales, more rushing streams and treacherous gorges until she reached her goal. And there it was shining down upon her. She fell in love! How perfect the happy feeling on the wintry street in Old Montreal with the two girls booting their way through the unploughed sidewalks, icing sugared rooftops and lintels softened by the falling snow. Four generations spanned in a single glance!
But how to secure this treasure? What artist would bequeath it to the humble pages of her book? And so to the internet she sped and toward one Isadore Rubinfeld, keeper of the keys to the castle, "Kastel Gallery," wherein the prize was locked. Thus from his keyboard did a message fly. Then, from the artist in the twinkling of a frabjous eye, the book was deemed of sufficient merit, and permission granted.
