I spend a fair amount of time lately trying to figure out what makes a photograph work or not work. Hell if I know. I keep coming back to this one from breakfast a couple of days ago. I’m certain that its companion doesn’t function, but this one perplexes me. I’m still not sure why, but perhaps if I put it here and look at it for awhile I’ll figure it out.

By the way, this is taken from the perspective of the Mickey’s booth that appears at the end of A Prairie Home Companion. There’s nothing there to acknowledges that this is the one, which makes it even better. It just happened to be unoccupied, so that’s where we sat.

Posted at 9:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

ETA: I don’t really know enough about Cuban cuisine to evaluate Victor’s at length, but I’ll tell you this: by a fluke, I went there for dinner one night with E. and then to breakfast the next morning there with G. Whenever I’m with either of them, we yap on unceasingly about whatever comes to mind. But at both meals, when the food came and we began to eat, we were struck silent for a few minutes. I would go to Victor’s again in a hot second.

Posted at 11:42 AM | Permalink