The year is 1946, in Paris. We pan to a man named Drioli, a retired tattoo artist. He is staring into a shop window, mesmerized by something in that window, an artwork perhaps?
It is a painting by my little Kalmuck, Chaîm! I wonder where he is right now. I remember all of our good times together...
Autumn 1913. After a successful day at the tattoo parlour, Drioli has his wife, Josie and Chaîm over to celebrate with white wine.
Could you do a tattoo on my back, Chaîm?
After getting drunk, Drioli asks Chaîm to tattoo a picture of his wife on his back. While he agrees to do such, he says he'll do such on a condition: Josie, Drioli's wife, models. Josie eventually agrees to that.
Sure, as long as your wife models for it.
Chaîm has finished his tattoo of Josie on Drioli's back. Josie has since fallen asleep.
Good times, so long ago. Well stored to please the mind. Josie and my little Kalmuck are gone, for I am all alone.