28: Its weight in your hand
I find the badge in a drawer where the things go to wait for their useful moment; where the fallow periods are so long that you forget what’s there.
White text on grass-green says LONDON FUNGUS NETWORK. And I think, that’ll look nice on your cream jacket.
But that thought is a handwritten letter on cream paper, and before I’ve even signed my name the calculus has been whirring: what is the accepted value of green-on-cream now? Or of white text on colour? Fungus peaked last autumn: does it hold any weight now? The badge is from a film screening, but does attending film screenings buy much now? What, even, is the value of badges about things, or wearing anything about things, or being about anything, as a person?
I don’t think any of these things, but their answers are already coming through. And somewhere, someone is trying to remember what I want.
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