"The Fall of Art" is first and foremost in the minds of people who are accustomed only to contemplate and do nothing. This happens every fall. artists, of course, is no exception. Why do something and be able to know when enough to rummage in the garbage barrel and lay poluzgnivshie rzbituyu products on a plate and season with all this bloody ear stray dogs and using the syringes. And the signature simple - fucking my life. Just something like, introduced yesterday, "Pinchuk Center. All of Burroughs. Here, a novel may be appropriate for a couple of days nakropat, and music, and something else. Requiem ..........
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