One Hundred Eleven

Over time, wooden furniture takes on some of the characteristics of the people with whom it shares space. It remembers dinner parties when beverage coasters were not used. Dogs, oblivious to their paws’ power to scratch, leave their marks on both their masters and their masters’ furnishings. Eventually, porous wood smells like the people who use it, the same way people tend to absorb the odors of the wooden benches on which they sit.