A choice imaginal treasure garnered in the aftermath of sessions of sweet silent thought with my dusty Pandora's cardboard box of personal paper ephemera. Although Gwynnie seemed to luxuriate in all the file folders and envelopes cluttering the aerie. When I gathered them back into the box ("All gone!") it was like a conjuring trick. The room was orderly again.
The Mona Lisa is so potent - like perfume in concentrate* - that she was behind bullet proof glass. I took this snapshot at the Louvre in the one and only time I ever visited, sometime in the fall of '82 or '83.
*Why did the NYU Wagner School of Public Service administrators, in 1998, allow a student to give us flacons, flagons, whatever, of weird perfume samples as some kind of strange graduation send-off? The samples were horrible, unuseable, and yet we hung on to them, and they contaminated our drawers, they were so horribly poisonous. But this Classmate in Public Service, supposedly, contaminated the class with that horribly evil gift. Don't get me started.