The very first story I had published professionally (which means, by my definition, I got paid for, and I could hold the book in my hot little hands) was about a woman who turns, or is turned into, an espresso machine, and all the various sensations she experiences as coffee and creamer emerge from her orifices. This sculpture by artist Karl Claydon invokes some of those same impressions for me. This machine is a little more steampunk, and perhaps more in charge, than mine was; but there’s still a nifty parallel between them.