‘That,’ the woman said. ‘Is absurd.’ 
She had looked alright from the back, with her braids and denim, but once she had turned around the Pipes Man immediately regretted approaching. Her face was cold and alien but worse still, he had clocked the red badge.
‘How can you get anything sharp with that thing?’ she asked.
‘Actually, it ain’t all about sharpness…’ replied the Pipes Man weakly. He looked again at her gear; under the prestigious dot was a rag and bone lens. Ha! ‘And what do you call that, then? Suppose that’d shave a fly’s arse hair?’
‘It’s an art lens. You wouldn’t know.’
The Pipes Man attempted a sarcastic laugh but it got mangled in a hiccup and tripped his shutter. Ah-arrihhhhh-THOCK. Now the woman laughed.
‘Oh but if I had an arrrrrt lens…’ he yelped as she trotted away. ‘Ya two bob snob!’
It made him sad that the others continually failed to find beauty in the peculiar, until it’s packaged up and labeled.
‘Learn to see a bit different out of them bug eyes,’ he said to no-one in particular. ‘I am beautiful.’