Baumwolle!

Today, as I wandered the halls of the building where I work, I came across a woman and her daughter, looking a bit eighties* and forlorn, outside the closed office door of a person who was likely still at lunch. From my own office I'd seen them twenty minutes before, walking toward the entrance of the building, holding the same potted plant and tupperware container of baked goods. I smiled brightly, as they seemed very sweet and had a nice potted plant, and as I walked into the mailroom, the words "performance art" popped into my head.

Then I thought that perhaps I have been on a college campus too long if that was my first interpretation of a woman and her daughter standing in a hallway with brownies and a ficus. Then I thought that this particular campus is likely the last place performance art would ever be happening.

*this is not meant to be perjorative -- mostly I see it this way because the young girl has the same rumpled hair, knobby knees, and dark-socks-with-light-sneakers that I sported at that age.