"What Happened One Night in the Dolls' Kitchen"

#0129. In miniature he sees what he sees. Dolls are his congregation. Dollhouses his universe. The dollhouse is mine. In peer in through tiny windows fogged over and lovingly fetishize the tiny objects inside. They act out in just awful ways sometimes. They are restless because their cage is too tiny. I have no yard for them to run in. No woods in which they can rest under a willow tree. They lash out at each other. The aftermaths are predictably disturbing.