We went to the museum shoppe, we wanted to buy a picture . . . they didn't have it, but they did have this one, which we had also liked, just not as much, Corneille's Tauromache . . . so we bought a poster . . . been an SOB to frame . . . it's square . . . and finding matte board to mount it has not been easy . . . we think we can now, but not yet . . .
but it did not quench our "thirst" for culture . . . for the picture we had actually desired, of which I could not even find on the Internet, if you can believe it . . . so now, I am providing you with what was not provided me . . . when I tell you how I got it you will not believe me but I swear it is true . . .
we went back to Kampa, and concocted a cover story in the museum shoppe that we could not find matte board, and the cashier willingly helped us . . . helped Mrs, while I watched thru the glass doors into the room at the old lady security guard . . . when she went to the back room, we abruptly went into action . . . Mrs. steamed in there and headed to the back room, intercepted the guard and asked foolish questions in English, flummoxing the guard, totally.
I slid in behind her, camera-phone already armed . . . the picture was by the front door, and it was child's play to square up to the frame and *snap* . . . with that, the need for pretense was over . . . I called out to Mrs . . . "come along dear, we're in the wrong place!" We bustled hysterically back over the Charles Bridge into Starometska, flushed with our success.
And now, for the first time on the Internet, Karel Appel's Le Regard . . ."Look upon my works, ye mighty, and Despair!"