Kevan Smith - Table

Sitting around, propping up and leaning on the variegated, woven, black jacquard encompassing and enhancing it.  An eating place, a meeting place, a greeting place, a speaking, beseeching and weeping place, even a 1am sneaking place.

Gathering annual quartos and new coasters of pretty coastal villages.  Cups of tea of Asian china, glass leaf-shaped plates of vovos and montes.  Kids toys and smeared jam, dim electric bills and yesterday’s news. 

Little blue-glass figurine of a lost ballerina, favourite ash tray that caused it.  Final doctor’s letter shrouded by the James Murray bill.

Silence is stupefying.