I was at work at an architectural bookstore. My task concerned procuring postcards to mat, frame and hang on the wall as decoration--tenable aesthetics for the cost-conscious. I was adept enough to turn a profit on the cheap: spending pennies, making an effort, earning dollars.

If a customer did not want a preframed, s/he could buy the card and (once home) wedge the image between the frame and mirror located in the bathroom. More simply, adhere the postcard to the refrigerator with a magnet. For other surfaces tack, pin, tape, clip, putty...

Here's our selection. What's your preference? Here are some options. Be creative--accessorize.

The hope was to merchandize the method of chic-collaging. The postcards I had previously obtained were from stationary vendors' archive catalogs. My goal was to raise the level chicness with a more present-day presence.

My face went flush when I saw a splendid picture of two sistahs captured in perpetuity, toddler twins sitting stoically in portraiture, illustrating Afro-Euro Americana--a vision and tale of generational affinity, for me, a must have affirmation.

The twins, Utopia and Dystopia, are dressed in lace and frill, propped up like dolls sitting in Shaker-esque chairs (one slightly taller than the other, perhaps an indication of birthright). Which, Utopia or Dystopia, is the evil--which angelic? There is sibling rivalry as envinced by hairdo: frizzies with a sophisticatedly placed barrette or weedy braids intricately twisted; style bohemian or dreadlocked.

I phoned the gallery owner and requested some postcards.

“They're invitations,” he spittered.

“All the better. May I have ten?” I explained my intentions.

“You can have one,” he spattered. “And let me know how you do!”

Deal done, but I never sold. Instead I vaulted the twins (with mat and frame). Legacy locked away--all mine. However, now I am bereft, saddened by the fact that I cannot look at them. Besides, by now the twins have grown--and perhaps, made a switch. Dystopia? Utopia? Could I tell them apart? I just have this chronicle in tableau, in my mind's eye, and now digitally in babble.