These “rings of light” so quickly dismissed as Vegas kitsch harbor a complexity lying outside the field of the Paris scope, reaching downward from the ceiling and serving to contract the angle of the diner’s perceived azimuth down, down, down and away from the hard-featured grizzly white ceiling tiles, at once forming an amalgam of the central balustrade of the dining room’s circular columns with the equally circular concavity buried in the courtyard outside, echoing the annular selvage of the Rios building, and expanding, expanding their wake into the four surrounding monuments, the circle of Fort Defenses, the Washington beltway, the Chesapeake watershed, the eastern seaboard, the western hemisphere, the earth itself, the exosphere, the elliptical orbit around the sun, the Milky Way, the periphery of the heliopause, our globular cluster, the spiral arms rimming our galaxy, the Local Group, the Virgo Supercluster, and perhaps even to the edge of the visible universe itself. I call on Tom Sietsema to resign as Washington Post Food Critic. It is time someone who cares about our galaxy to step in and lend a more appropriate fashion aesthetic to our expanding nebula of restaurants. Did I mention that I hate stars? Rocks. ← Space Cowboy Rockwell, Here's an idea, Why not ask the Chefs and Restaurant professionals what they think about their designation in the galaxy.