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The image I've concocted in my head of Esther throwing her clothes off the rooftop is so concrete and vivid that nothing I can find online even approximates it. But here's an image of two women on the roof of the real Barbizon Hotel so you get a sense of what her view may have been. This chapter is so intense and so profoundly sad, from Hilda's cold indifference to Marco's assault to the clothes floating into the city like "a loved one's ashes".