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The woman returned her gaze to the park. “It’s an eccentric pastime, I’ll admit.” She laughed and Nina saw that she must have been extraordinarily beautiful in her youth. “I suppose the younger set might even call itcreepy.”
She said the last word with a trace of careful emphasis, as if it were unfamiliar toher.
Nina smiled. “If I’m being honest, I thought the same thing atfirst.”
Judith turned to look at her. “Honest. I like that. What changed yourmind?”
Nina thought about it. “For something to be creepy, it has to be either secretive or imposing. Your pictures are so… honest, sorespectful.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Judith said. “I admit to a certain pause when I first started taking them. It was never my intent tointrude.”
“What was your intent?” Ninaasked.
It took a moment for her to answer. “Todocument.”
“To document solitude,” Ninasaid.
“Solitude among women,” she saidfirmly.
“Yes. I felt that,” Nina said. “They’re lovely pictures. Still but…emotional.”
Judith’s mouth curled into a smile in spite of the fact that she kept her eyes facing forward. “And what of you, mydear?”
“What aboutme?”
“Why would a beautiful young woman like you be at the park alone on such a cold night, chasing down an old woman with a camera?” Judithasked.
It had been a long time since anyone had called Nina young. “In the beginning it was just about the photos. I work at a gallery. I thought you might be interested in ashow.”
“I am not.” Nina tried to hide her disappointment. “Pleasecontinue.”
“Later I just wanted to know your story, why you do it.” Nina looked around the park. “And I started to enjoy the park alone at night. My mind’s so busy. It’s quiet here.Peaceful.”
“I understand,” Judithsaid.
They sat in silence for a fewminutes.
“Can I ask why you’re not interested in a show?” Nina finally asked. “Your photographs are so beautiful. I think they’d find an appreciativeaudience.”
Judith’s laughter seemed to echo though the park. For a moment, she looked forty years younger. “Oh my dear, I’m not at all interested in anaudience.”
“But… such beautiful work should beshared.”
Judith looked sharply at her. “Who says so? Isn’t that mydecision?”
Nina nodded. “Of course it is. I’m sorry. That was presumptuous.” She looked out over the park. “Anyway, I haven’t been at the gallery very long. If you were going to show your photos, you’d be better off with a more experiencedcurator.”
She was surprised when Judith reached out to pat her gloved hand, her own encased in ivoryleather.
“Experience is never a substitute for passion, dear. Don’t let them tell you anydifferently.”
Nina smiled. “I’ll keep that inmind.”
“What did you do before this gallery? If you don’t mind my asking, thatis.”
“Not at all,” Nina said. “Although I’m afraid it isn’t a very interestingstory.”
“All stories are interesting,” Judithsaid.
