I particularly like the quiet section of the gallery where Sid placed two small paintings side by side. Both were painted by Russian artists.

One is a small abstract. The colors are intense, the work -- I think it was influenced by the Rayonists -- is a wonderful painting despite its small size. It was painted in Russia and survived a journey of escape rolled up in the artist's belongings.

The other painting is a small ikon, painted by the artist's father, a maker of religious paintings who was imprisoned in the Gulag system. It also made the journey from Russia in the artist's suitcase.

In that same area of the gallery there is a sculpture by a Japanese American artist. It is a ceramic map of Japan. Approaching it, suspended from invisible guy wires are two B29 bombers: the Enola Gay and the Bockscar. In the sculpture, the airplanes are suspended in time, as if the terrible destruction that ensued might not have happened.

Fresh fruit in bowls, creme fraiche, coffee, blueberry muffins, a pitcher of fresh squeezed orange juice, champagne. We sat at the table on the deck overlooking the ocean. While I drank my coffee and thought about the small details I needed to attend to before the opening, Gunter and Gwen and Gunter's father talked about going into to town, picking up some things for lunch and then hiking along the coast. They would be back in the afternoon in time to get ready for the opening of the exhibition.

Dorothy telling Gwen about some escapade she got into at school long ago. Gwen telling Dorothy a story about how she and her friends used to go skinnydipping in the river near their home. A mood of breakfast and family stories. Gwen telling an intimate story. And then the peaceful atmosphere shattered by her question:

"Are there intelligence agents listening to what we say now? I mean at this very moment?" she asked.