The Frames 

It was pay day and the young wife wanted to frame a picture she had taken of her husband. A poster on a telephone pole brought her to the shop of a tall, thin gentleman, advanced in years but somehow youthful and elegant in appearance and dress. The walls of his shop were covered with elegantly framed photographs, though there were also a few empty frames showing only black matting. The gentleman poured her a cup of tea and made her sit on a chaise lounge where she could get the best view of his masterpieces. Quietly, as he sipped from his own porcelain cup, he explained how there was no greater revenge than to trap a soul in a picture and imprison it in a frame, forcing it to stare out into the world for eternity. The trapped soul could nevermore participate in life and its motion and joy ever again. The young wife swallowed her tea and forced a nervous smile. For reasons inexplicable to herself, she asked about the empty frames. They are not empty, the old man laughed and wheezed. They are just reversed. Some souls do not even deserve to see the light of day. They deserve not to see but to be seen. 

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