The Permit

The woman who sells tickets to the High Museum sees me holding my camera and asks if I intend to photograph. She gives me a form to fill out for a permit and tells me that there's no flash photography. As we walk into the museum, Husbandman whispers, "Do you even know how to shut off the flash?" I don't, but I figure it out when we get to the gallery, experimenting in a corner when no one is looking. With my sticker and my cheap camera, I take on the identity of art photographer as I saunter through the exhibits. I think I'm not doing enough with props in the dissertation work. This could be the answer.