In the pale, diffused light of an overcast afternoon, an Indian woman traces the spice routes of antiquity on her lover’s back. She tells her story--not with ‘objective’ facts and figures, but with the scent of cinnamon, the golden stain of turmeric, and the heat of red chili. As her tale unfolds, the map increases in complexity-- Africa, India, Southeast Asia, all penetrated and plundered by Europeans in search of pepper or powdered ‘gold’. An exquisite portrait develops upon her lover’s flesh but despite its genesis in stories begun millennia ago, on this afternoon, in this apartment, at this time, it is merely ephemeral, easily brushed off, destroyed in just a few moments--
but not before a final ‘sting’!

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