I chose lyrics from a Postal Service song for the title of this raving. Maybe I can live out tender moments in my life by offering one of these tiles, or something original, useless, and perhaps even decorative, as legal tender to clean my slate. I am left to wonder, under a starless sky, being bitten by mosquitoes, hoping they don’t go for the face: Does anything really function without the belief that it is beautiful? Do we need beauty?