But the daughter is dishonest with herself. She doesn’t ever read the Style section later. She imagines that she is a lady of leisure, and that at some comforting returning each day time, say at lunch time, she lingers over the sandwich, reading about the latest photographer – Walker Evans I think it is – or what they are doing this time with the Big Chair in Anacostia. What really happens is the Style sections pile up, some on the floor, a couple on the table, while the daughter gazes into her computer screen. What is she doing? What is so important?