The photographer led the willowy politician down the hall to a darkened room holding only a table, two books and a column. He placed the man’s hand atop the volumes in a casual pose, having him look into the camera instead of away.
Standing behind a three-legged contraption, the photographer flung a black sheet over his head and leaned forward. In his right hand he held a flat pan on a stick.
The politician stood still, breath held. Suddenly, the pan flashed brightly, billowing acrid smoke into the air.
The future President was nearly blinded and almost choked to death.
The Old Blog in the Desert 
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