I’m staying on the wrong side of the Arno and I like it very much thank you! It is quiet and we seem to be almost the only tourists.
We were taking a little constitutional along the riverside, noticing how the beautiful trees had been savaged by the hurricane that happened here in August and came upon this place.
It reminded me so strongly of Lost Vagueness and Trash City at Glastonbury – and everyone who knows me is only too well acquainted with what a festival bore I am. #I’vebeentoconsiderablymorefestivalsthanyou #stillwearingwristbandsatxmas etc etc etc.
Only creeping age and the MFAASP course has cut down on my festy credibility.
Trash City is a delicious melange of sheer wrongness. That mannequin with the orange plastic pashmina would feel well at home there. And what in God’s good name is the gold torso wearing for a head? I don’t even want to think about the use of telephone cord as a restraint.
And tell me it’s not just my sick mentality that thinks his crotch is all wrong?
I like to think that the bungee is just there to hold her up.
At least we know everything will be all fine and dandy because the Virgin Mary is there to look after us, complete with plastic bunting.
It was closed when I walked past.
I’m going back again (and again) until it’s open for business.