The Lie of Capital

They have stacked the crates of apples on top of each other. Redness and shine are on display. People come – like honeybees to the call of the red rose – people pick up the apples, turn them in their hands: the other side of the apple’s redness, now look! Insects squirm in the apple’s yellowness: like the squirming of swarms of lice in the clothes of war refugees. People – like a honeybee passing by the spectacle of a rotten wreath – will pass, regretful, by this marketplace...