Wearing absolutely nothing, but the finest of frilled and delicate undergarments, of the highest quality materials, of the most rarefied; feeling wafting through those choicest garments the sharp cool stabs of wind from a slight crack in the picture window overlooking the beautiful city, her nipples erect, gooseflesh tingling, “looking out over everything”: if not god's creation then this place, this construction, city of giant gold profligates hurling their shit from atop mountains of money; terminal destination of the transmigratory soul of Angel Wasserman, in Liana Lessenger, “looking out over everything.”
Mid-range in value commissioned reproductions of early modern such-and-such's: *classic*, *essential*; imparting to any living space a sense of *sophistication*, *erudition*, *affluence*, *wealth*, *taste*; a predilection for the finer things; the intellect, the breadth of knowledge with which to apprehend and appreciate their extrinsic values, with which to populate one's living space; a panoply representing assorted mediums, movements, styles—a reproduction, an original, an art object. Not a print, nor a framed one, nor an antique exhibit poster: none of that you'd find in your average liberal arts college dorm room; nothing pure kitsch; nor cheap, mass-produced or ugly. Only the finest... only the finest... art is an investment; this is an investment; but it must have some intrinsic value, if not to justify its value, than to justify one's interest in it, that is, in its VALUE.
VALUE, UNTO ITSELF)
—a certain kind of person, a certain sheen, a certain air...
Passing through the bursting sarcophagus, of wall-to-wall carpeting, onto another stretch of wall-to-wall carpeting, thick, fine shag lived in, looking out over everything, soft enough to sleep in, like that in Blakie's room: grinding her freshly pumiced toes into the fibres, soft, soft, soft, of an intrinsic value, of an extrinsic value—*affluent*, *sophisticated*, *urbane*, *elegant*—a touch of class—a certain class of a people, a certain breed, if you will—“looking out over everything” she owns.
The preceding is excerpted from, the fourth section of, The Dream of Never-ending Heaven, a novel forthcoming, by Zak Block