Domestic Blues (1/6)

I love housework. I don’t always do my chores on time, but when I do them, I go all out. Today, "all out" refers to the grace I’ve found in an empty soap container. Grace, flowing through my eyes and into my soul, by means of the fine lines between light and viscosity, and in the clarity with which I’m privileged to perceive this gradation between blue and Byzantine, refracted through Jergens’ vessel of polyvinyl chloride. In another month or so, this #3 plastic might well be reconstituted as a pipe, serving water to your house, and into the mopping bucket, in spite of whose yellow sheen you are will be singing the domestic blues.

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