From a place with no inherited capital, how does an aesthetic sense rise?
1. The illusion of "a taste I chose"
A thought I keep returning to.
The things I like now — did I really choose them?
Leather goods, perfume, a certain kind of audio gear, the texture of wood grain, the thing people call functional beauty. They all have a definite feel inside me. If you asked me why I like them, I could put words to it. But could I say, flatly, that I chose them by my own will? Probably not.








