Art Need No Longer Be An Account

Strangers Used To Gather Together At The Cinema And Sit Together In The Dark, Like Ancient Greeks Participating In The Mysteries, Dreaming The Same Dream In Unison.

And, Indeed, Is There Not Something Holy About A Great Kitchen?... The Scoured Gleam Of Row Upon Row Of Metal Vessels Dangling From Hooks Or Reposing On Their Shelves Till Needed With The Air Of So Many Chalices Waiting For The Celebration Of The Sacrament Of Food. And The Range Like An Altar, Yes, Before Which My Mother Bowed In Perpetual Homage, A Fringe Of Sweat Upon Her Upper Lip And The Fire Glowing In Her Cheeks.

So I Suppose I Do Not Know How He Really Looked, And, In Fact, I Suppose I Shall Never Know, Now, For He Was Plainly An Object Created In The Mode Of Fantasy. His Image Was Already Present Somewhere In My Head And I Was Seeking To Discover It In Actuality, Looking At Every Face I Met In Case It Was The Right Face - That Is, The Face Which Corresponded To My Notion Of The Unseen Face Of The One I Should Love, A Face Created Parthenogeneticallyby The Rage To Love Which Consumed Me.

If Miss Means Respectably Unmarried, And Mrs. Respectably Married, Then Ms. Means Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink.

It Shone On Everyone, Whether They Had A Contract Or Not. The Most Democratic Thing I'd Ever Seen, That California Sunshine.