The Gallery Director Comments

The skin of the gallery director is soft. But his muscles know the strain of production. He smokes in an alley adjacent to The Minotaur Gallery in Carmel. Fog veils the coast. His smoke rises south of Dolores. Streets here resist numbers—they are defined by landmarks, intersections, corners.

He has retired from Broadway with tastes for rehearsals, hors d’oeuvres, and starving actors. His face is not unlike yesterday’s or the days before. His vision is no longer curtains—SOLD lifts the soul. The goal is contracts, TRWs, payment plans for the middle class.
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