before we list the crimes we note the items: generally, we note on every wall a neatly hung nude photo, most of the women posing lazily, their limbs draping into liminal space like a lifeless body floating across a river. ophelia was so beautiful when she drowned: surrounded by flowers, river water seeping gently into her translucent dress. for every unsettling piece of outdated furniture in an empty room or clear bottle of lube lined up neatly on a shelf with the others, we find those flowers:
a wall-mounted statue of a tiny leg slipping into a pink ballet slipper
a painting of a lady with red pumps
a crucifix
hydrangeas on the balcony
baby blue slippers, white fuzzy pom poms adorning each foot
a grand piano
milky white beach shells atop a large wooden shelf
we may wonder how many girls wore those baby blue slippers, how many glanced at the statue on the wall of the bathroom as they scrubbed their dirty hands, how many stared at the crucifix while their face was half-buried in the carpet. girls are stalked by sweetness for all their pain, failing to shed delicateness. how many girls prayed? what is a church without stained glass windows and lace-trim alter cloths?
we note a photo of the financier holding a young girl in his arms like a baby. we remember that Epstein was Cosmopolitan magazine's "bachelor of the month" in the July 1980 issue, we ponder on how neatly powerful names fit under big black lines, we wonder how many girls crumbled like a sugar cube. before discussing the crimes we examine one last item: a spiral bound notebook, on one page, one word written in pen ink:
TEMPLE
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