Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in
love with a color. Suppose I were to speak this as though
it were a confession; suppose I shredded my napkin as we
spoke. It began slowly. An appreciation, an affinity. Then,
one day, it became more serious. Then (looking into an
empty teacup, its bottom stained with thin brown excre-
ment coiled into the shape of a sea horse) it became some-
how personal.