versió en català
In the end, maybe it does all come down to texture. Color is everything, until it is not there, until the city creeps up on the mountains and the narrow streets barely let in the sun, let alone the green, the blue, the yellow, of the outer world.
Think of medieval streets, of nearly being able to touch the both sides of the street at the same time. Although if I lived then I would be smaller, maybe even daintier, more delicate, perhaps a doctor or merchant's wife with my own dowry, my own assets, and maybe servant to do the wash and men to do the carrying. I might even be more pampered than I am in my machine-driven do-it yourself middle class life.