© 2011 Becca. All rights reserved. IMAG0514


The flat is a hole, both literally and figuratively. In scenes reminiscent to the opener in Ghost sledgehammers connected with loose plaster and clouds of dust replaced the artist formerly known as Walls. In all but one room.

I have never had so much fun. Eternally perfecting the art of clumsy, permission to thunder one heavy object through another is delicious. But it soon spills over into sending jars of turps emptying over new floorboards, smashing lightbulbs with over zealous hamer swinging, breaking window latches and a spanking.




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