distinguish between arrival and departure. A photograph reinforces the story. The opposite of a sentence is music. A story thwarts the photograph. Kiss me beneath the chandelier, before the bellboys look and thwart the possibility of desire. The children would climb up the trees to peep on the guests, who stayed in rooms on the second floor, as they made love. You don’t end a story; you let its conclusion arrive like a guest anticipating happiness. Explosions make shrapnel arrive faster. Photographs of rooms we’ve never been in: a closet from which hang gowns made of parachute silk, a view of the bay from which hulls of sunken ships jut out, rattan chairs,