Wednesday, December 1, 2010


The headdress was heavy without being large, not covering the head as much as perching precariously on the crown, held in place by weight rather than any design to mold to the contours of the skull. There was a necklace as well, not so much a matching necklace as a thematically consistent necklace, whose beads and baubles and things which sure as hell looked like teeth hanging, draped, over my shoulders, and in one hand a wooden model of a hand, disturbingly lifelike, in the other a sharp carving of an animal, in bone or ivory, which my hand restlessly turned over and over, tracing the edges, physically uncomfortable holding a fake hand beneath the weight of a headdress and necklace.

In praise of shadows / Tanizaki

in years past, this storm storm storm would have all been snow :
that counts as a statement of optimism.