I bought glue from the dollar store once, and it didn’t stick to anything. It didn’t make anything stick together. If you stuck your finger in it–which I did with a recent project–it felt slippery.
I have no idea what was really in that bottle. It was white, like the school-project favorite, Elmer’s, but it certainly didn’t didn’t have its glueyness. Anything you applied it to curled up, defiant, uninterested in being attached.
“Things fall apart,” as Yeats wrote.
Things Fall Apart, as Chinua Achebe echoed in the title of his brilliant book about post-colonial Nigeria.
“Things fall apart,” say I, about dollar store glue. But not only dollar store glue.
The center cannot hold.
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