Let me be clear: I love the mall.

A mall’s smell is a safe, sanitary one of judiciously filtered air and factory-fresh, unsullied clothing. It is the smell of nothing, yet nothing smells like a mall. The light is mild and even. There are no shadows in a mall. Its bathrooms are cleansed at regular intervals and verified on a timetable by diligent specialists. And food courts, which offer a bounty of choice to the hungry shopper, are the perfect place between purchases to grab some spaghetti or a submarine (sandwich), a cup o’ soup or a lavishly buttered muffin. And then you station yourself amid the grid of symmetrical tables and devour whatever it is.

Malls often feature a central clock and/or fountain, an excellent location to stage a rendezvous. At every entrance colour-coded maps organize the stores by genre. Should you be perusing these maps, your own location is even revealed by a helpful “here’s where you’re now” icon. Not that getting lost in a mall should ever be traumatic, even to a child or foreigner. For how can you be lost anywhere so wonderful? It is fine advice, should you find yourself lost in a mall, to simply remain in place and wait for rescue.

It’s true that in a mall you can be anyone, whether that’s another body in a crowd or someone unusual balancing a bag of meat on his nose. Few locales provide such favourable circumstances to observe humanity and its various gaits. What joy it is to occupy a bench and view the crowds as a uniform mass heaving past like the unrelenting sea or time itself, or else to appreciate each person for his or her individuality: this one’s legs are a little bandy, that one’s eyes darting about with the virulence of a lunatic—what will she do, punch a cashier? Wait and see.

When the furor of it all proves too much, simply retreat to a change room. These are quiet, secluded places equipped with locks and mirrors for private self-evaluation. You try on a new outfit in there and turn one way, then the other, glimpsing yourself over your shoulder, and think: yes, perfect fit! And if not, many other clothing options are available, perhaps even the same garment in a more merciful size. You should never be ashamed of your body.

Malls are unparalleled for their accessibility. Frequently serviced by major bus routes, they also provide motorists ample parking in street-level lots, underground garages or multi-storey complexes with twisting driveways, like a roller coaster with less screaming—just don’t forget your ticket, lest the mechanical arm trap you forever. Inside, a limited number of wheelchairs are available for provisional loan to the invalid and elderly.

Simply put, malls are where dreams come true. You enter with a notion of how the visit might transform your life, and reemerge more pleased, and bettered, than you could have ever imagined. Salesclerks are great. For example, they are capable of producing a telescopic claw for fetching items from the higher shelves, or a ladder. Based on their training, they will offer counsel such as “Excellent choice, madam,” or “I wouldn’t dare if I were you, sir.” And the selection! Unparalleled. In a mall, if you don’t approve of the goods in one store, there’s always another to cater to your tastes. On and on you go. And in the event that you can’t find what you’re after, some retailers will even permit special orders—a terrific excuse for a return trip.

All in all, I can think of no more civilized place on earth than a mall to shop, work and play. And now, by the divine miracle and generosity of your remarkable institution, for two months also to live. I truly hope that you will consider the enclosed application for this new residency program with as much thoroughness as I have expressed here re my feelings re malls. Which I, desperately, love.

Yours in trust,