like so many others, i had become a slave to the Ikea nesting instinct. anything clever...like a coffee table in the shape of a yin-yang, i had to have it.
the Klipsk personal office unit.
the Hovetrekke home exerbike or the Ohamshab sofa with the Strinne green stripe pattern. even the Ryslampa wire lamps of environmentally-friendly unbleached paper.
i'd flip through catalogs and wonder...
"what kind of dining set defines me as a person?"
i had it all. even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections...proof that they were crafted by the honest, hard-working, indigenous peoples of...wherever.
we used to read pornography.
now it was the Horchow collection.
She never complained about it. If she did not like it, she would have mentioned it to me. I am sure she would have. I would have noticed that. She was my mother, my sister, my lover and my little girl. She was particularly frail today and her frock was the perfect prop. She had limped over to the balcony and propped against the boundary walls. She had read and watched enough videos of kids flying kites. She was going to fly it and I was certain that she would. She would have already checked the wind direction and speed