Relax in the details, process the feelings, but do not analyze it, do not read into it: just give up. Don’t intellectualise the works of art and passionately failing stones, or the way Nancy rests like a painter’s muse on top of an erect violin, protected only by a coat over her shoulder area. There is no need to question why the red shine throw from fluorescent coil nailers expense bathes her in a different kind of appeal; or why the least switching up at the sides of her mouth recommend a knowingness that is both soft and strong.
