Behold that old sink in a small enterprise, hardly
a centerpiece effort, but still taking up space in a
corner of the warehouse.
A wire soap dish hangs from the faucet and a ragged
gray towel has its place dangling from a rusty rack at
the sink’s side, and the faucet drips.
Do we talk about the faucet presenting itself as a
still-life scene, or the drip or just the sink—as its own story?