Outside the Duomo of Florence were about a dozen artists. About half drew charcoal or pencil caricatures; the other half were watercolorists. This is the one I brought home. It's small, 3.25" x 2.5", and painted not by an Italian artist, but a Frenchman trained at the Accademia.
Hiromi and I had gone shopping the day I bought my little painting. Hiromi's painting has a lovely field of sunflowers. We came home with a few other treasures, so I had several bags. Once we arrived at the apartment, I removed all the extraneous paper from my purchases to put into one large bag to take to the curbside garbage bins (in Italy the garbage collectors don't come to your house -- you take garbage to large blue street bins). I deposited it on our way to dinner. We returned from dinner, washed up and went to bed. At midnight while writing in my journal, I suddenly remembered the painting. A frantic search yielded nothing, so I pulled on my clothes and went out to the street for some dumpster diving. Luckily, the garbage was not covered by disgusting muck, only other paper garbage, and I found my bag, with the painting inside. I laughed my way back to the apartment.