ABSTRACT
Treasures is suburban-strip architecture as funhouse. e building, a low-slung, cheap-looking structure the size of a tennis court, is covered with mirrors from rooop to asphalt. e walls are mirrors, the roof is mirrors, the doors are mirrored glass. It’s as though the building is trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. I enter through the mirrored doors and nd myself in a een-year-old boy’s dream room: oor-to-ceiling mirrors, a carpet the color of dried blood, black lights, a choking fog of cigarette smoke, a plastic bowl lled with Tootsie Rolls, and all the gambling one’s heart desires.
