In the middle of a pandemic, I often talk to a little Chewbacca. He is a stuffed toy with bright blue eyes and a hint of a stitched smile.
He used to make Wookiee roars, an ability he sadly lost after an overzealous bath. Chewie is not my childhood toy, some nostalgic throwback to a safer cocoon.
Embarrassing as it is to admit, I got him as an adult, as a gift for my partner, Bishan, who is a “Star Wars” geek. Almost as a gag, we gave Chewie his own Instagram account.
I once read about how the artist Horst Wackerbarth took a red sofa and photographed it in front of famous landmarks: the Taj Mahal, the Amazon rainforest, the ice of Alaska.