After being dragged through most of Highland Cemetery in order to find William McCullough's grave, DD's poor husband was suffering from an understandable cemetery-fatigue, or maybe just a touch of the quinsy. DD maintained her calm, compassionate nature as DDH politely inquired as to her photographic technique.DDH: "You're taking pictures of dog butts."
DD: (loftily) "I am NOT taking pictures of 'dog butts'." (Takes another picture of a dog butt).
DDH: (smugly now) "You're taking pictures of dog butts."
DD: "Sweetie. What I'm doing here is a little...technical, but let me see if I can explain it in layman's terms."
DDH: "Technical dog butts."
DD: "SWEETIE. If you'll LOOK, you'll see that what I'm doing here is making a skillful juxtaposition of those waves in the dog's tail right there with that little scrolly-thing over there. It's a balanced contrast of line and curves--each element complements the other to produce a composition of breathtaking--"
DDH: "Breathtaking d--DD: "SWEETIE. Look at those ripples there. Don't they match that scroll thing?"
DDH: "Well...they're...sort of similar."
DD: "All right then. I have been vindicated in my artistic quest." (Wisely) "The true artiste must be free to pursue their own unique, courageous angle on life."
(DD immediately moves around to the front angle, so as to avoid any further commentary).
