Shopping at Lent
Once upon a time, there was a boffin seeking an impish friend to keep her frou frou mind company.
Every time she would meet someone new, the boffin would hopefully (though she does not, herself, like the word or idea of "hope") tell the story of the shopping bag.
What shopping bag story is it, you ask?
Well, imagine that you walked into a church rectory as proper as an Architectural Design spread of a Hamptons beachfront property. The sun rests lightly on each saintly artefact; each saintly artefact seems to hover in a space cleansed by prayer and the Irish cleaning lady. It is terrain unspecked by dust and extraneous props. The kind of place that you draw yourself up to your full height to remember to genuflect.
Do you see the sole object on the fussed over unmussed sofa?
It is a Bryant Lane shopping bag, odd souvenir of a discreet foray into a Mall of Mammon.
Every time she would meet someone new, the boffin would hopefully (though she does not, herself, like the word or idea of "hope") tell the story of the shopping bag.
What shopping bag story is it, you ask?
Well, imagine that you walked into a church rectory as proper as an Architectural Design spread of a Hamptons beachfront property. The sun rests lightly on each saintly artefact; each saintly artefact seems to hover in a space cleansed by prayer and the Irish cleaning lady. It is terrain unspecked by dust and extraneous props. The kind of place that you draw yourself up to your full height to remember to genuflect.
Do you see the sole object on the fussed over unmussed sofa?
It is a Bryant Lane shopping bag, odd souvenir of a discreet foray into a Mall of Mammon.
posted by EvaB at 5:58 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home