as i stood in the mess of times square yesterday, with my mid-morning cigarette, i was confronted with a six-story sarah jessica parker, clad in shimmery snakeskin or sequins or something, selling her new ’sex and the city’ movie. she’s pasted to the side of the marriot marquee and is skewed on a slight diagonal bustling through an ambiguous NYC blur of night and lights (not pictured above, couldn’t find the right pic on the net) like she was captured in the pose by paparazzi as she momentarily glanced up to politely greet an acquaintance while slinking out of a cab. i thought about this woman. about how her sheer presence heralds materialism - the hint of a designer clutch peeking into the frame.

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