Since you have been gone, a few things happened. The art fair I was invited to took place, Trump has been elected as president of the United States of America, a bigger and sunnier art fair I was not invited to happened, Trump is still the president elect, my grandma did not die, Gregory did, Christmas is starting again.

Still I was looking at your likes when your message popped up: it’s over babe!

I knew it. Well I should have known it. I have refreshed Susan Miller’s website three times that day and this month’s horoscopes was still  not up. It was probably just bad timing with the planets alignment, or maybe the future I told to myself has yet not started.

But you were right, it’s over. No more babe!, no more dolphins jumping out of my bedroom window, no more quotes from Nobel prize winners, no more whatsapp transcript, no more overhead snippets, no more justification in front of a court, no more grandma, no more missed birthday, no more lazy blogger nor blind one. This is officially the last text about the art fair.

Lets put it this way: it’s time for coffee. Or shall I envisage a true story now?

It means:


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