Listening to "Death Letter" by Cassandra Wilson
I believe napkins are forms of creative inspiration. Their blank smoothness and texture literally cradle the mind for the epiphany to come. How many great portraits, radical scientific equations, and love sonnets have been scrawled across their blank folds to capture an idea before it fades into oblivion. Their surface is never as imposing as the long, blank page of paper and, if the idea falters or is discarded, the medium can always be used to wipe the milk moustache from your lips and be tossed into the obscurity of the trash pail. One has only to look at a man's napkin to glance into the depths of his soul.
|what is on your napkin?|