That is my new favorite story of all time. And something similar occurred to me about 30 years ago in San Francisco involving a briefcase with irreplaceable originals of work I was supposed to typeset, so I know exactly how miraculous the reunion felt.

I like the way you made the digital image of a painting by Murikami become the perfect commentary on his work. Your story about your friend and her purse and the subway system is a perfect parallel universe to contrast Murikami's work with. It comes together in the word purse. Your anecdote doesn't necessarily have any connection with the Murikami image and/or his work except in a formal sense; it appears right below it. When the final word in the paragraph appears Murikami and the anedote become inextricably connected, if only in an ambiguous or vague, or poetic sense.