If you ever need to separate a treasure from its muddy suroundings, use a sieve. The sieve-a tool that extricates valuable items from the majority of worthless components in a given medium. With a few simple shakes of the wrist, the explorer sees a gradual recession of the grime concealing the true prize, usually a jewel or a small group of priceless young women.  Hidden among the thick broth of disrespect, self-loathing and one-night stands, the women wait patiently for their turn through the sieve. And after months, and sometimes years of shaking, their illuminous worth surfaces, shining ethereally on the metal grate.  But instead of choosing these women of undeniable worth, the explorer drinks the muddy solution that oozes from the bottom of the sieve. They drink it greedily, with a thirst so insatiable that they ignore the figures left waiting to be treasured. The
mixture moves slothily down their lips, to their chins, until it sits puddled, overflowing out of their laps. Its' constitution is so thick that the individual components are no longer recognized. Instead, they have fused together into a unified mass of forgotten identities. Wounded by this chemical apartheid, the women fight the temptation to liquify; to dilute their personalities to better flow through the holes on the bottom. But weekend after weekend, they still remain: