Seattle The sound of applause trickles down from the market signaling another fish has unnaturally sailed into waiting hands. Instead of piss, a ritual saturates the alley below, a polyphonic chorus of mashing jaws. A peculiar fusion of fruit and mint scatters helplessly in the air. Previously a wall of deep scarlet brick and mortar, now a fifty-foot stretch of rainbow spectacle, constructed one pressed thumb at a time by post-masticated rubber. Tourists congregate in droves to pull globs from their mouths, and stick a warm addition to scarce vacant spots on the discoloured bricks. To unfocused eyes the alley becomes a canvas for a modern world map, each piece a hardened pin, a statement of existence, connecting continents over an ocean of saliva, forever bonding lives in impressions of thumbs.