We all known the magic Ruby Slippers which transport Dorothy – who’s been ignorant of their magic powers while wearing them for the better part of her journey – back home at the end of “Wizard of Oz”:
A bit less known might be “The Red Shoes” of Hans Christian Andersen’s 1845 fable of that title, who bear their wearer – not home, but to their doom – ingeniously amalgamed into a ballet-themed movie by Powell & Pressburger in 1948:
Movie-makers of today: watch and learn, is all I can say.
The pope on the other hand (foot!) does not wear Prada, the pope wears Christ:
In yet another inspiring analysis on aeon.co, the question of how one of the oldest technologies of humankind acts as a symbolic foundation for human identity and has both enabled us to explore otherwise unattainable terrain as well as distanced and estranged us from earthly contact (“down to Earth”?) is discussed.
Personally, I prefer a fluffy approach to the ruby slippers. The home office movement has opened the possibility to a “fuck it” attitude towards work day fashion, for example like so:
Die kühleren Temperaturen sind zurück, die Zahlen steigen … Zeit für den Bücherherbst und den passenden Quarantini, part II!
I’m not sure if I want to recommend the half-litre take away version during a London cab ride, but I definitely do ask you to use aged r(h)um … it simply is more better, especially for autumn – think: color of fading japanese maple leaves!
The Colebrooke Row 69 recipe is a shining light in times of darkness. And I’d like to quote the grand master here, although only half-way in context: “Drink three to five of these slowly.” À la votre!
“Men speaks many different languages, the king said
Children speak only one: the mother language
Mothers don’t speak; they hear
For men don’t know what to say, but this is okay
For older people don’t hear nor do they speak
For having come before, they learned how to see
How to decay, while they observe” 
I am therefor very happy that a centrepiece of that exhibit has found its way into my realm, where it can remind us of the most universal und powerful language of all: silence.
As Juan emphasized back then, the skull is a symbol of life, not of death. As we unearth it, layer by layer, we uncover and discover his-story, auf Deutsch: die Ge-schichte(n). Just as we ourselves are many-layered stacks of stories, some of them lost, some hidden, some fragile and fading, but some strong enough to provide us with a skeleton that supports us for some time.
Which stories will remain?
And those you fear neither Death nor Hell nor the Florence Foster Jenkins of Finnish Tango go back to www.petersch.at and make sure their browser doesn’t block audio autoplay. Qui vit sans folie … (category: Ears) 🙂
 from Juan Arata: “What makes us human? – A model of Migra Tion”, Booklet for Ruberoid Festival 25-26 Sep 2015, ACUD Kunsthaus, Berlin