Some time ago in a faraway place there lived a long-forgotten cabaret singer named Fay. Once famous for her vibrato and her beauty Fay dwelled in increasing obscurity. According to legend the interior of her home was said to have every inch of wall hung with framed photographs of herself, in her prime. Many of the pictures were autographed by her, and even dated.

On occasion Fay ventured off to mill amongst the common folks, driven by the hopeless desire to be recognized. There had been a time when paparazzi had mobbed her (after her publicist had clued them in on her coordinates), had blinded her with flashbulbs. But that time was stretching into a mythical past. Stretched like her bespoke face and her narrow-lipped phony smile.

One afternoon Fay went for a walk. She had abused the morning bossing her retinue as they gussied and primped her ready for a close-up. Off she sauntered, tripping down the cobblestones that meandered toward the village. When she passed a person she would swish her head, and float her long red hair around her mean face. She would slyly look from the corner of her eye (which, after so many face-lifts, made her black eyes cross), hoping vainly to catch a

glimmer of recognition.

Repeatedly there was no hint of acknowledgment, and she was ever more crushed. Where had her fans gone? She mused bleakly. Suddenly, while she was deep in thought, she was almost topple

d by the gregariousness of a huge brown dog. Furious that the folds of her pretty dress might have been splattered by the heedless hound she swatted at the dog. But the dog was enormous, more like a pony, and her feeble protestations were as inconsequential as a gnat.

While she flailed the dog bounded excitedly rising up and planting muddy paws on her chest.

“Stop it!” Fay cried. “Don’t you know who I am?”

But the dog misinterpreted her remonstrations and instead found her distress encouraging and he bounced higher and more excitedly.

From nowhere there appeared two young girls slung with cameras. They stopped and observed the scene for a moment and then they approached.

“Photograph? Please?” They said, in broken English.

Fay instantly pulled herself together. The ecstasy she felt spreading from deep within manifest into a widening smirk as she hastily smoothed her dress and fixed her russet hair.

“Of course!” She said, addressing the girls. Her heart swelled with confidence, with certainty.

And so the girls began to snap away, taking shot after shot. It took a moment before Fay realized that the girls were photographing the dog.

Fay stared in disbelief. She took a step backward, and then another, almost as if she were testing the improbability of the scenario.

The shock was so devastating Fay dashed back to her home and she was never seen again.