Piccolo Toro—Black VelvetWorn to dinner, the folds of a borrowed velvet jacket looked like the shadow of a black horse running in slow motion. The fabric held traces of perfume from nights past that allowed fleeting access to the owners memories. As she sat at the table, the silk interior cushioned her skin; a tiny coffin for her torso. She closed her eyes, to reel in a memory, or perhaps to revel in the feeling of temporarily becoming someone else. The Piccolo Toro jacket in