The Gold Mosaic of a Wall

I have not enjoyed a proper, refreshing vacation in over a year, a vacation where I forgot how to draft appropriate client correspondences and where my prevailing concern is how long the sun will be out, and then, what type of mischief can be found underneath the moon, an oversight partially attributed to inopportune circumstances, partially attributed to my own vehement masochism. When my parents offered to host me for a few days at the beach at the end of September, I did not lunge at the prospect, but, after some thought, believed it would be pleasant and congenial, a chance to soak in salt water, read while lazing in the sand like an elegantly bulbous seal. Unfortunately, a business trip out to Las Vegas interfered, and my work streak prevailed.

While traveling to the eastern shore of Maryland is not quite an appropriate metaphor partner to sailing to Byzantium, a romantic and idyllic and fantastic world of art and artifice, it does indeed bring one in close proximity to the largest vintage jewelry shop on the east coast. This photograph is courtesy of my beautiful mother, captured while on a solitary antiques excursion to the neighboring seaside towns, meant to incite envy and forlorn. Succeed she did. My mouth waters at the prospect of a wall of rhinestone.