In 100 degree city heat, the beads of sweat cling to my chest in a now familiar pattern: a map of the zig-zagged blocks i have walked to reach my destination. Earth, it seems, has shortened the circumference of its orbit, and surely shines but inches away. My pocketbook cannot spare a $2 subway ride, and so i trek on, ever forward, to...Scandinavia house! The Nordic Center of America! I breathe in that precise air of the Finns and the Nords, the Icelanders, the Danes, and the Swedes, and am chilled by the beauty, the precision, the divinity, the cold mystique of those faraway lands. ºººLimbo Lamp for Petur, an installation by Olafur Eliasson, and Manhattan textile pattern by Josef Franckººº
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