TEXT HOUSE I * FACADE * PART 1 * WALKER THISTED *

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On the street amidst the luxury boutiques

the great luxury houses producing all the fine apparel cladding royalty and celebrities and captains of industry and movie stars and influencers, there was a building that you might not even notice while passing by.
It was so unremarkable that you could never be certain exactly how small or large it was, how many windows it had, or really even exactly what form the building took. As soon as one comprehended one aspect or another, this recognition quickly faded into the depths of memory. Nevertheless, this building was known more widely than any of the other elite institutions nearby. For this was the preeminent Text House in the world.

From behind its walls, the best most refined bespoke text was produced. It was crafted with the utmost care. No one exactly knew how long it took to craft a given text, but rumors existed that it took decades if not centuries. People would line up in front of the nearby boutique for weeks, months, and years to procure their very own text bearing the unique seal indicating its authenticity. After waiting all of this time, they would be ushered in one by one into the intimacy of the boutique – the surrounding world immediately vanishing as if an eternity away. There is rectangular polished walnut table in the center of the room with a velvet upholstered chair on each side. The doorman closes the door and invites you to sit as an attendant enters and asks you if you would like something to drink – perhaps a glass of champagne to celebrate finally making it inside. You nervously accept. Soon, champagne in hand, a woman clad in black slacks and white blouse enters through a blue velvet curtain, heals clicking on the floor as she bridges the distance between the perimeter of the room and the polished walnut table. She is carrying a leather box bearing my name that has been brought over from the house earlier that day. She sets it before me and reaches out her hand in greeting before slipping on a pair of white gloves and gently opening the box and taking out the text and setting it before me. It’s exactly what I imagined, perfectly crafted just for me. I take it in my hand and absorb the text slowly – breathing in, inhaling its vital life giving energy, immersing myself in its depth, traveling to the far reaches of meaning and purpose, understanding what it is saying to me, telling me what to do, where I should go, what I can actually be, my potential and capacity – horizon of existence.

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