Eau de le Lonely

The world is peaceful except for the pain.

The peace is flat roads through a small town, bent grass, a bartender with a bruised cheek, and a sky domed like a cathedral above them. Sun-dried hay carries the heat. Oakmoss sits dark underneath, and timut pepper sharpens green citrus across it.

The radio stays on and the windows stay down, music travelling through am/fm waves, through the air, through the body of the car on a hot summer night that feels like american dreaming. Grass goes flat and warm against diesel and worn rubber coming up off the road. Cedar closes over the road, dry.

Sister is the work of Jenny Mulder and Melina Cortez, and it begins with the world of Roy Orbison. Mulder carves the bottles by hand and they are cast in pewter, fifteen of each. Cortez made the fragrances. Three of them, released at once. Italian glass figures and handmade glass lamp panels sit alongside them, each one an edition of one.

A hillside at the end of the world with the sun going down into the Pacific. A small town under a sky domed like a cathedral, radio on and windows down. A crowded room at the moment the song changes and something shifts. Mulder writes as well, and works in ceramics: Traveling Through Light is an essay about driving, and about the way light sits differently in a Tucson desert and a Tuscan afternoon.