Touch

Reactors, dams, conversations and unshoed feet fill homes with electricity. We move from person to person, room to room. Mouths scream politics, kiss religion, quiver at gossip and whisper affections. Temperatures change, air gets more or less saturated with water and carpet turns to rug to hard wood. It’s a system demarcated from the next by an icon, the modern object fulfilling an ancient commandment. A tiny silver vessel containing a scroll most will never touch, marked with words few more can read. It affects every passing pulse of light; taking oil from prints.

One part of the chemistry of a household. Grounded by the screws that keep it from the floor, charged at the very point where it is touched. A cast, fabricated and electrified object that’s part of a reactive structure.