Unsure

I looked online at a picture of James Foley on his knees. A man behind him, dressed in black and face covered, held his head and a knife against his throat. The photo looks fake. It could not really be real. That is my reaction to such moments. When I was a girl my parents took my sister and me to see the folies in Las Vegas. Women walked across a stage wearing sequins, feathers, little else. I saw bare breasts for the first time. (No, I had never seen my mother's.) Are those real, I asked. Yes, my mother said. I wished they weren't.