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in April, 1953 less than a year before her death at the age of 47 Frida Kahlo had her first major exhibition of paintings in her native Mexico. By that time, her health had so deteriorated that no one expected her to attend. But at 8 p.m. Just after the doors of Mexico City's Gallery of Contemporary Art, open to the public on ambulance drove up. The artist, dressed in her favorite Mexican costume, was carried on a hospital stretcher to her four poster bed, which had been installed in the gallery that afternoon. The bed was bedecked as she liked it, with photographs of her husband, the great muralist Diego Rivera, and of her political heroes, Mallon, Coffin, Stalin, Papi Mashaei Skeletons dangled from the canopy, and a mirror of fixed to the underside of the canopy reflected her joyful, the ravaged face. One by 1 200 friends and admirers greeted Frida Kahlo, then formed a circle around the bed and sang Mexican ballads with her until well past midnight. In the middle of a deep forest, black and the lives and Mastic susceptible his hair stood a big house, Victorian style, very sad neo Gothic Grecian, a Roman corner here. And there's if the architect had wrought a terrible revenge on his school days. This great building was incongruously crowned with a tower, which was really an observatory when it rained, humidity pressed around the house and clung to the walls till a crop of fungi varying from green to orange, speckled C P. A. Two purple covered the walls, giving a colored hide like that of a dragon. Even the prancing center on top of the observatory had a pelt of wild mushrooms. This made him look as if he was made of felt, not stone. The three men who sat silently in the observatory under the center were watching the moon, which was well on the wane. They were dressed in clean white linen and Saturday, equal distances around a table. Each man had a telescope, a microscope on a flower, which they examined meticulously now and again, jotting down a figure in chalk on the black table. The oldest of the three men, who appeared to be of a Z attic origin, possibly from China, satisifed Hume to the chair, his hands lying before him like trained dogs. His eyes had not quit the waning moon for 12 hours. The second man, Ah European with heavy reddish flesh and light eyes, fidgeted with his microscope and made busy signs on the table, which he rubbed out more often than not. Occasionally, he moved his round head in jerks or stirred his feet under the table. The third and youngest of the three men was a Jew. He had a pale, handsome face and warm eyes. The white linen robe he wore seemed a part of his person and became him well. His right hand traced a slow caressed on the palm of his left hand, and he watched this with evident pleasure. He has ceased looking at the moon on the day of the greatest airborne invasion in history, Audrey Hepburn was a skinny girl of 15 stunned and exhilarated by the prospect of imminent liberation from the Nazis and incredulous that it was taking place in her own provincial Dutch town of Artem. Now, on September 17 1944 Arnim found itself the scene of the single most daring allied gambit of World War Two. That day, combined with 1800 other days under the Nazi occupation, would have repercussions on her life forever