Small Acts of Idolatry

I had one of those weird, raw days where I really wanted to be alone even though I wasn't sure why. I guess maybe it was the expectation to say something, which feels like a burden for some reason, at some points in time.

Solomon Worshipping the Idol Moloch, Georg Pencz, 1531

I got my lip threaded on the Upper West Side, the most consistent form of a beauty treatment that I do, and as I crossed the street, a man sprinted across the sidewalk in jeans, clearly living in a different reality. As I left the salon, another man handed him cash as he said “Please, do it before I die.”

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