No, it's not an obsession with Barry.

Nor just my endless penchant for gazing at beautiful men.

Well, perhaps it is all that, but it's also the pic itself. It reminded me of something else, something rather haunting.

And then there it was, and god knows it was just what I needed today.

After all, the Shadowmaster was the gentleman who financed a certain trip to Cannes one other festival year for similarly intrepid ladies of letters. Perhaps this is a sign?! Perhaps a manuscript will be accepted, a lottery ticket cashed out, pigs will fly, and I shall soon find myself sipping a fino at a cafe overlooking the Mediterranean.