Rock that candy shop done and resting from all that
and politely asked the woman behind the counter if they stocked Found Magazine. She said she’d never heard of it. I described to her that the magazine was a collection of notes, pictures, and odds and ends that, through one way or another, found their way into the “right” hands. Hands never intended to discover these tiny glimpses into other people’s lives. I said to her that it was one of the last remaining forms of art that is still real and unadulterated because it was never meant to be seen and can be viewed in more of the context that it was trying to be conveyed in. She looked back at me and retorted, “And people actually waste paper on that crap?” I told her a simple, “we don’t stock that” would suffice next time.
