Mallstice

Solstice is barely discernible in the mall. The fountains in the central atrium drip with unheard music, and the idful echoes of children’s demands are refracted around the high domed ceiling. The special offers celebrate themselves as a succession of window dressings encoding a complex manifold to rival the market day calendars of the Balinese. Reflections in glass and chrome advertising hoardings expand out towards a mirror maze of infinite space.

And do not say that there is nothing of the primal self here: wellness spa accessories and tribal trinkets are available from their allotted outlets along the plaza. The wisdom of the ancients is preserved within this closed self-sufficiency as the mall tumbles from its native spiral arm and out into the deep space between galaxies.

At any time the eateries on the umpteenth floor are fruitful with brunch and mid-afternoon eats; all-day breakfast is sempiternal while the long arm of the clock rotates from zero to zero to zero. The holiday season that never ends.