Photography

A photographer in slacks and a blue blazer examined his exhibit proudly.

It was his first real show, and people were there. Most moved from one picture to the next, slowly, methodically.

Most of his paintings were landscapes of places little known and far away.

After the exhibit closed for the day he went to dinner to celebrate in dim yellow lighting and deep brown sinewy benches his achievements.

He noticed one of the women who had gone to his show was next to him with her boyfried. He asked her if she had ever been to Paris.

She said, with the photographer casually and mildly listening, "No, but I saw a picture of it today at a gallery. It's beautiful."

"Yes it is," her boyfriend said.

The artist looked at her red scarf, condemning himself for giving people excuses, for labelling himself as the ambassador for the world to exotic lands, as if it needed one.