On my birthday I go to an exhibition. Its themes are: death, separation, misery, gloom. Everything but fun. Perfect!
Museum of Modern Art
There was a thing by her in the turbine hall of Tate Modern a few years ago, enormous, black, metal spiders. Horrible.
They seemed especially nervous of ‘conceptual’ art. I can’t imagine what dark things they imagine.
Fat fatty fat fat
Elli leaned closer, his face serious, and told me something surprising. At least, I was taken by surprise.