At the Centre Square, one of the bus stop glass walls glitters with the mood of the season. Here. Look at me. You are thirsty for real gold, aren’t you? The real gold thing is little more that the name, though. Straight Up. How do you turn the cinnamon flavoured drink in the temptation of pure glamour, the ultimate gesture of covering, lining your own human inside with real gold? How do you turn the pit, the miners, the toxic chemicals, the metal, the prices in the stock market, the dirt, in a buoyant dance of hypnotic golden specks?
Drink me, whispers Jewellery.