Plasticity
In supermarkets Halloween summons pumpkins to the vegetable aisle. It conjures all kinds of hellish plastic in mass display - the ephemeral becoming eternal and choking our world, accompanied by organ chords and the vocals of Vincent Price. I have been unthinkingly complicit in the past, short on cash and full of joy. In the cupboards here still are plastic pots and a scoop for carving. A skull necklace menaces from a door knob. There have been multiples of cardboard skeletons, paper spiders, vats and vats of pumpkin soup too; recycling into food is (maybe) my favourite kind. Love the celebration, despair of the waste; this is Halloween, and every day - beyond the eyeless stares and trails of bony fingers there are shelves and shelves, aisles and warehouses, full of packages of things we mostly do not need; things that have travelled more than most of us, that have been churned from leaky factories, things that make 'processed' a dirty word. Easy to fee