and then there was venice.


no photos could describe this epicness. none. so here are a few words. prosecco. prosecco. prosecco. mundi. frikki. schuyler. gelitin. crackers. scary. waugh. waaah. phones in canals. parties. parties. parties. mathew barneys opening at the guggenheim, laurie anderson’s birthday do at sophie calle’s gaf, icelandic pavallion preview, deitch at german ambassadors, the one on the island with the fake snow, an opera singer and the weird ruin and the ennnnndless alcohol and the super mad crazyness and the journey home following that with more getting lost and the then getting kicked out of the hotel and our amazing room with the chandelier and then wandering venice to find another and then losing each other. cheese sandwiches at harrys, voulevants at wales, strawberries at prada, david holmes at ireland and wandering the streets with icelanders. robbing bottles of rum at the deutsche party and talking  house and techno with sean de lear. bruised. badly. prosecco. gelato. spritz and more spritz. the wrong airport to get home. and then some.


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