- Katya Reimann
- Jan 30, 2020
- 1 min read

When I was young, my mother did a number of bad portraits of me. Or so I thought, at the time she was doing them.
My feral child self thought this one in particular was hideous, and especially was furious that she gave me yellow eyes.
Now that I am not young ... I better appreciate that my Mother was a patient painter.
​I was not a patient model.