A metamorphosis can take many forms. Due to lease related roadblocks and hindrances our poor, long suffering walls still remain white. The casual observer seems not to notice this for nearly every inch is draped, swathed or otherwise disguised. We admit to a weakness for Victorian portieres – a lovely weight and texture for upholstered walls. Partners in crime include antique sari panels, vintage brocade bedspreads and a small army of nouveau-esque table runners. Banners and valances drip from sills and ceilings. Our oatmeal colored (…ugh…) carpet has undergone a similar transformation, buried alive under two or three layers of carpets of varying sizes and patterns. Our floors look like an aerial view of some strange and colorful fairyland growing crops of goblin fruit and fields of kaleidoscopes.
Our furniture is not immune to phantasmagoric changes either. Recently a parlor chair has grown a set of horns and most of our mirrors (and the front door) have acquired faces. As to more practical transformations, it came to our attention that our beloved sofa was slowly moldering away to a pile of dust and bones. This particular sofa was purchased in less that pristine condition, the primary selling point being that it was upholstered in the WORLD’S MOST GOTHIC FABRIC (picture your favorite vampire lord lounging upon a black damask decorated with bat winged bouquets in evil tones of emerald, purple and rose.) The happy and more sophisticated ending to the story is the rebirth of our cherished sofa in luscious black velvet which accentuates its lovely lines and curves.
Shedding the skin of what used to be
This war waged as all the horns of Jericho begin
The death of all your deities
(“The Serpent That Enslaves What Is Worshiped” by Goatwhore)