Winter Takes Hold

I have nothing against opulence. I love silk scarves, nice clothes (though I eventually spill tea or splatter tomato sauce on everything), an excess of life's accessories stuffed into closets and corners. The trick with any system—capitalism, socialism, trade-and-barter, utopianism—is to ensure that outward opulence is a projection of —not substitute for — the soul and psyche of individuals in that society. Has this ideal ever been achieved?

We seem to be a long way from this today, the dawn following another mass murder fueled by hate, an opulence of metal and bullets and blood that is, alas, closer to the projection of our broken souls and gaunt psyches. It is easy to walk down Madison Avenue in Manhattan and blame the mass-marketed, sterile opulence of the window displays for everything that is wrong in ourselves.

Well-dressed mannequins watch as winter takes hold; well-dressed mannequins watch as we lose hold.