After having a lovely time today, experimenting with prop/object, I thought I would post a couple of sections of poetry from one of Gertrude Stein writings, Tender Buttons, which considers the private discourse about private perceptions to objects, food and rooms...

A CARAFE, THAT IS A BLIND GLASS
A kind in glass and a cousin, a spectacle and nothing strange a single hurt colour and an arrangement in a system to pointing. All this and not the ordinary, not unordered in not resembling. The difference is spreading.

And especially for you Lilly...

A FEATHER
A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive.

Nicola x