Relax, it's only a ghost.
I have proof I was there. Here is the only picture that I seem to have been able to take inbetween my outbreaks of the enthusies:
I like how minimalistic the picture is. And, having just finished Arthur and George, I cannot help but draw a connection to early 20th century Spiritualist seances. Just look at Thies Mynther's bodiless head floating in midair! Dirk von Lowtzow as a medium, indeed! Ah, such Poppycock!
And here's my ticket:
Have I mentioned that at the Brut, they served all willing people a slice of a "Leichenschmaus" which consisted of a "man" dressed in a suit, lying on a table, who was modelled entirely of Leberkäse, apart from his innards, which were potato salad? I found the display positively sickening, especially after having watched Peter Greenaways "The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover" two days previously. Urgh. Aparently I do mind cannibalism! Who'd have thought so?
I have feelings of great tendresse towards this ball of wool which I have bought today:
(The yellow light does not really do the colour justice.)
I might knit something confoundingly delicious out of it, but I haven't made up my mind yet, if I will keep it to myself to go with my new nailpolish, or if I will use it to make one or the other Christmas present. One will have to wait and see how things turn out!