Barbara Jaye Wilson
collision at the intersection of fiction and real
One recent morning, way too early for this particular restaurant to open, I witness people go inside, take stuff out, and load it on a truck. Daring daylight robbery? Seemingly profitable restaurant over-and-done? Partners battling? Someone grabbing what they can before the stuff ends up in a court battle. Then, as I get closer, reality: movie set. So, in this case the reality is the not-real.
One block beyond, and totally unrelated to the movie, a bunch (a clutch? a blotch? blight?) of paparazzi lurk, waiting, where they frequently do, for somebody who is not me. Either that or I fooled them again with my clever disguise.