The Search for Non-Capitalist Pleasure
by Ansley Clark
One of my most pleasurable memories occurred in my friend’s tiny room, sitting in her plastic and unremarkable desk chair. We were English teachers living in Beauvais, France; my hair was full of split ends, and my friend offered a trim. Since none of us owned any glassware, she handed me red wine in a mug. Her fingers combed through my hair, occasionally skimming my scalp, while her scissors quietly and steadily snipped away, like small gentle insects.