i went up to beacon today to pick up an old english vase i'd set aside last weekend while perusing antique shops with friends. i love doing that. you wander from shop to shop, waiting for something to say, hey, remember me? you've never seen me before, but you recognize me, you know me, we got lost along the way, but still, i belong to you, i'm not that expensive, so bring me back home. sometimes it's a vase with birds. sometimes it's an old footstool. sometimes it's a book you'd read as a child but completely forgotten. at the risk of sounding anthropomorphically romantic, it's dance, really, requiring chemistry and timing.