The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
August 12, 2005


I have been in the darkroom all night and now as I write this I fear I was in there much too long. First I'll let you know, the shots I have of a hermit warbler are well worth any lasting effects. She's an enigmatic little creature, at once both proud and demure. I can now tell you that for the life of me I cannot, because of the hours in the darkroom, pick up on the color cyan. Its completely off the radar. I feel like I am in a Jasper John's experiment. To make matters worse the incident has launched a "discussion" between Constance and I about what exactly is cyan. She keeps pointing out sea-foam and shades of teal. I want to set her straight but with my condition I lack the confidence. On top of which I am a bit sleep deprived. I must run now, I am going to mount Constance and tell my photos to go to hell. Later.

[signed] Nick

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