Not everything I post is sad reminder is society's lacking. Some things are shiny.
"I once heard of an East African farmer who, in the nineteen-twenties, traded his vast flax plantation for a much smaller plot devoted to damask roses. He liked the notion of being able to transport an entire harvest to Paris in a suitcase, attar being worth more, per gram, than cocaine. I like that notion myself. Every writer's ambition is to distill the truth irreducibly from a thorny subject..." -The White Ball by Judith Thurman