Sitting idly one day, I picked up one of those fashion magazines - you know the ones that weigh in excess of 2 pounds and are almost entirely advertising.  Page after page of lithe models stared out at me trying to sell everything from make-up to shoes to home furnishings, allowing me to compensate for the shame of my inadequacies.  Everything is for sale, and you must buy to validate yourself.  I cut the eyes from the adverts and transferred them to the street.  They gaze out from the cracks and corners to watch, invite, admonish and beckon all those that pass by.