Martha arrives with Sharon, her Chief of Operations and dear dear friend. A single round of sake and Martha whispers in her husky oh so Connecticut voice that she’s in love with a married man who lives in London. You can relate, being married to a man you don’t love and having visited London.
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The person you are paired with concurs, even though now that you look around you can’t find them—apparently, you are no longer paired. You will recall them fondly, and associate them with the complicated mechanism of touch...
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Tears. This, us, the audience too, would be sold at auction for millions within the year if the sausage kept flying and kept plowing on towards the end, the full five minutes without falling. As advertised. Soon. If we continued on to the summit. Damien Hirst: eat your gold-plated skull out.
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