I am so deeply in love with this Icarus light by Tord Boontje, that I can scarcely contain myself. It makes me want to claw at myself with pleasure. I love that someone has made something so beautiful, even if I never own it I love knowing that it exists.
Speaking of beauty and grace, or more accurately the flip side of which, I have kept silence on the events in the US until now. Partly because I don't feel informed enough to add anything meaningful to the discussion.
I feel kind of flippant, shallow and callous posting entries about how much I love this lamp, when nightly I'm seeing the horrifying images coming out of New Orleans and Mississippi. I sit and watch it with a lump in my chest, a tightness, that I just can't go too near to for fear that everything will just unravel. Does that make sense? We are so far away from it down here in Oz, but I've been watching it on the news, transfixed and on the verge of tears, until I have to get up and leave the room or change channels. Nightly this tight ball of pain under my sternum seems to be growing more tightly wound, larger, more painful.
All I can do is hope for the best resolution possible, as quickly as possible, and that the US people fire that idiot who's asleep at the wheel.