the consumer in me

As a rule, I don’t buy Greek magazines, or "women’s magazines," but I really wanted that t-shirt with Sakis Rouvas’ signature on it. It’s not a classic now, but it will be, by next summer, or the next. Some forms of irony take time.

I’m always amazed at the weight of these magazines themselves. They’re too weighty to throw away, too light to be worth the trouble of carrying home.

I did, though. And I read about the girl whose palms are embarrassingly sweaty during sex and the bored housewives having no sex at all. I read about adoption in Greece (something I’ve wondered about) and how men fear getting married almost as much as staying single. I skimmed past all the fashion pages and the ads (I couldn’t tell you which were which) and finally found what I was looking for:

The courage of conviction, to throw it away.