20 October 2020
Dear Lactic Factory,
I miss you. More than I thought I would. More than I thought I could.
I confess, these past years we have seen each other less and less; the drift of all lives, it is the nature of things. There have been long periods where we have been apart, we ebbed and flowed, and I took you for granted. I remember the first time, so long ago.
I wish I could come to you right now, but what I really miss is the memory of what you were before, all those years ago, back when you were a revolution rather than a thing de moda.
Your old mats were so poorly suited, so soft, mattresses rotting away under canvas, your walls were pocked and…
