For years, I have passed this magical little shop in Manhattan and admired the bee skep and terra cotta pots, the fabulous painted floors, the evocative enamel sink, and the wild, spidery reflections of the candelabrum on the wall after hours.
Looking in the window is like gazing into another time. I have never once seen a human being inside this little store, and sometimes think it really is a portal into another, churning world.
"For the bee, honey is the ultimate reality. It represents the fulfillment of her life mission, the triumph over her enemies, the continuity of the hive, the justification for working herself to death. Honey is to bees what money in the bank is to people—a measure of prosperity and well-being. But there is nothing abstract or symbolic about honey, as there is about money, which has no intrinsic value. There is more real wealth in a pound of honey, or a load of manure for that matter, than all the currency in the world. We often destroy the world's real wealth to create an illusion of wealth, confusing symbol and substance."—Wm. Longgood, The Queen Must Die
3 comments:
Quite charming... it reminds me of the chapter in Harriet Ellis's book about the man who sells skeps...
is that the name of the store? It looks wonderful. I have been very impressed with this posting from abroad! Planning to check out the dates on the library and maybe get there (the power of gsh!) and I very much enjoyed the Burroughs.
I don't even know the name of the store, KC. If there is one, it's not very obvious. (The posts were written in NYC pre-trip and set on "timer" to post at various points in time. I can show you sometime, if you like.)
CM--thanks for the tip; I will check out that book.
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