At the Met today I reacquainted myself with Rembrandt's soft shadows, drifted past various ballgowns smeared with beads, rhinestones, sequins and delicate embroidery, found a delicious Picasso drawing and sat under a dense thicket of bamboo on the roof. Out in the street the heat rode the pavement like horny gangsters. Tonight I have three fans on and the aftertaste of Herzog's Bad Lieutenant.
What a life.
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