Tiny Living: Record Keeper

We cling to the grit. The gravelly tones of records and the grain of 35mm film. It reminds us we are real, that we are still here. Finally able to achieve aesthetic perfection, and we run from it. It's unnatural, post-human. We are eased by cellulite thighs and hairy lower backs. Anything that is worse than what it could be, is as it should be. Flaws are the proof that we still hold our humanity. 

Two years ago I got Pat a record player for Christmas. Later, he dragged a shipping palette home late one night after a party. With his attention, it became a two-sided record keeper. The slats perfectly surround the standard square of a sleeve.