Bildungsroman

Do matchsticks have souls? How about spice racks, beans (animus/esprit/pneuma/ruach) or flying machines? These are questions for Muppet wranglers and all other purveyors of semi-animate flesh.

Slowly it becomes clear that sprouting pricks out tattoos of fascination. All is brief pain (winds of discontent?) and blurred ink.

I apologize. If I am cryptic it is only because I cannot satisfactorily understand these things myself.

Perhaps you would care to take a stab?