The Little World

Every time you encounter a model of the Eiffel Tower made of matchsticks, doff your hat and stand silent for a minute. You are in the presence of death.

The person who spent six months making the model – and paid $ 50.25 for glue and wooden sticks – was a fine human being. Perhaps a mother, or father – or a beloved son or daughter. The lived, breathed, sang, and laughed…and then the Shadow overtook them.

The Shadow Of The Invented Hobby. Doom with instruction sheets. Fun for all the family, if the family are the Borgias…

Some modelling is good. There is a pathway between it and Heaven, and we are fortunate to be able to walk along it. The train layout that replicated a childhood’s experiences. An R/C aircraft that soars and swoops and flies into the side of a house. A scale model that honours an uncle. Clean – attractive – purposeful.

Some is scientific – the model boilers in the Science Museum. The ships in Greenwich. The Lancaster in the RAAF, Bull Creek. All good – all worthy. ( bet you didn’t know it was made of styrene – they’ve done a great job. )

But some – the matchstick model of the uterus – the jigsaw model that results in a model of a jigsaw – are there because someone wanted to make a profit throwing shit and someone wasn’t wise enough to duck.