The tables are set, and all is laid out in bounteous splendour. Who is invited? I wonder if the great and the powerful will mind sitting underneath, cross-legged and catching crumbs, the hors d’oeuvres made for the humble and the hoi polloi tucking into canapes all around them. Perhaps we should all take turns and become once more like little children, giggling in our draped dens, the adults carrying on above, and then all of us understanding a little better when the music begins again and we move around.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018