Deep in the heart of the verb ‘beguile” is the idea of deceptive charm. Beautiful clutter in a house beguiles us through the forthright honesty of the daily lives of things we love — juxtaposed to form new meanings, meanings which vanish when the objects are removed or separated.

This is the cruel deception of the museum case. Or, the lies of sentences which bring words together in new ways, enchanting us with forbidden possibility. I mention these notions because I live in a clutter of beautiful ideas which bring me great joy until they don’t. Then, they are, one by one, sold off cheaply or given away. And still I remember loving them.