It started on Thursday. A wonderful Spanish connection got me to an art exhib in Hayward. Of course I should have taken pictures but I forgot. In my language, we say: it happens to the best. One artist was shaken hands while his hand was full of white paint. I didn't give him my hand, no. One presentation I didn't understand at first: it seemed a fragment of Gladiator. What was the sense of it. Well, the artist had removed all the audience; you just saw Gladiator in an empty theater. I still don't know what the significance might be. But it keeps me thinking. And that's good.
Yesterday evening I have seen No country for old men of the Coen brothers in Kensington Odeon. The movie is very good, the psychopath is extremely well casted, but the script could be a less more polished to me - there were some lose ends.Afterwards I had champaign in the flat of a friend.
I have cycled too much last days. I'm tired.
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