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What we’re trying to buy, when we buy art, is ourselves.
Religion had its place, but it was both practical and mercantile; it endured like a sturdy table in a polished kitchen.
He gets up and follows in their wake, moving into the dark chill of the building, across the wax floors and into the auditorium itself. He gets a few stares from university students who are dressed in tattered clothing and who look like teenagers to him. He sits down in the back row and settles himself with an antacid.
A pretty little lecture, he thinks, the coaxing of poetry from the passage of light. Something about tronien and the invented person. Very nice.
Maybe this is why the rich are so good at self-deprecation, she thinks, because it offsets the perfection of their clothes and houses and lives.
