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Amid what was once a living pelt, tiny silken stitches. Amid words, Uppercase and italics. Around the image and the words that help us see it, a floral hedge of a border. Because the protective border and the enwrapping fur help us feel safe, we discover within ourselves a resource of life to expend on love. We experience that surplus life as warm and soft and comforting and full of intricate detail to fix our attention and hold us still while time slips past outside the border, overlooking us. For us, nothing is except this furry raptness. As the documentation emphasizes, it is an investment. When time stops, the interest goes to infinity.
Southeastern hemidemisphere, 2010: a rice steamer from Thailand.
Somebody had the desire, somebody pictured it and drew the picture, somebody spent all day every day printing the picture, over and over. I think a car would fill me full of happiness. Eighty-five years after The New Yorker and half a world away, the economics of dream continue trickling down.
