Yay! This time, remind me to find out about getting tickets before hand, okay.

Hopefully, we won't bereading anywhere you'll NEED tickets, or where the venue will be overrun with movie star groupies.

Do you guys have cat allerhies, or can I feed you?

Lea's got mild allergies, but we can work around. We still need to firm up stuff there, so we don't what's what yet. Will be in touch.

Oh, and yeah, poke the Somervillains. Things are a little crazy all around right now.

I'm so predictable...millions of works of art and I picked the broken woman one. Looking for someone who can get past the physical...although I am a striking Greek lady who’s been living in France for some time. My hobbies include nature and inspiring others(although let’s not even talk about that spelunking phase...what was I thinking?) I’m looking for a man secure enough to know I love him, even if I can’t put my arms around him at night. Love, Venus.

erika, I predicted that none of this week's drabble crop was likely to do more than tickle me in passing: not my thing at all, since I can't get emotionally invested in either of the two topic choices.

But that one cracked me up nicely. Nothing to do with art appreciation in any sense or form; just memories of the Louvre on rainy days, before they put in that fugly-ass pyramid in the courtyard and made it impossible for people to not pay money to check their umbrellas.

The standard thing on wet days was to find a convenient statue behind which you could stash it (you do not wander the Louvre with a dripping brolly in your hand). You'd find them in the oddest places, behind Winged Victory at Samothrace (Helene Whatsis riffed on that, in her Heloise in Paris), which was the most common place to hide it, because that was the first humongous piece of marble you came to. But only an idiot left it behind VdM, because there was technically no "behind". She's freestanding and can (or could, last time I looked) be circled by people.

Someday I'll have to go, one broken chick to another, huh? I'm a little bit fascinated by personal ads, above and beyond my own desire to couple up. Some of them are so great, and some of them scream out "I'm a freak, perv, cradle-robber."..or whatever.

I can just see Venus, in that slightly twisted pose of hers, muttering "Étrangers stupides! Enlevez votre parapluie de ma vue!" as she glares at the brollies tucked behind her pedestal.

Funny.

Nothing to do with art appreciation or education, though. Carry on.

edit: make that "tucked" behind her pedestal...

That'd be a cute story...maybe she could love the janitor that picked them up. My first ever romantic comedy...

Deb, that's a drabble of its own, right there. Maybe not in strict adherence to this week's topics, but still. I love the idea of Venus's internal monologue.

What, as an exercise? Sure, why not? You want to write it, or should I?

Here. A prezzie for Tep. Lightweight, I'm afraid.

Unheard

She mutters to herself, head gracefully inclined toward the endless stream of visitors.

"Wow, she's really something, huh?"

stupid little foreigner, you know nothing at all

"Mama, how did her arms come off?"

ill-mannered brat, how dare you point at me

"Papa, kann ich ihre Nippel sehen!"

dirty-minded imbecile

No one hears her. The crowd moves on, is replaced by more gawkers: Japanese, American, Argentine. She longs for saliva and air, so that she might spit.

Later, when the museum closes for the night, the muttering fades beneath the soft dust of time, settling on her cold white shoulders, her truncated arms.

Oooh, nice.