My grandmother used to shred matchbook covers while chain smoking Belairs - creating a fringe curtain to see the matches like missing teeth. Apparently I picked up her habit (not the Belairs).
Some one's gotta dignify that saran wrapped pink styrofoam filling up the bodega aisles. Going through the carwash as a kid was the closest i ever got to feeling like Willy Wonka in the chocolate factory.
I went to buy a Freedom Chair at a huge empty board room. I couldn't afford the $800 chair but I got a free cappuccino and the catalog.
Zsa zsa Gabor and my sister running into the fence in the alley and chipping her tooth at the block party.
shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes --self explanatory.
This box was in the leftover bag from his mom's french teaching class when she retired. A box of dried up red markers--that was the least of it.
From a series of NY Times collages that have been sewn to their shadows.
I got carried away by David Foster Wallace and Noah's Ark.