“Think of all the reading they’ve done,” he said. “Think of all the things those glasses have seen.” Jenny Valentine, The Double Life Watching them trapped in the Cancer Shop, blindly waiting to be tried-on, maybe right or wrong, glass seeing glass through glass all the way down, I was minded of a frozen pond whose thin discontinuous layers of ice will let your eyes get vaguely to the bottom. Here there was none, no bottom, no one I could touch base with. In Kongo, some believe that glasses, like water, have a memory. A pair left sitting on…
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