While London burnt, bikes played

The bike perverts in London are tres poetic –

…Through town she glides like a glistening jewel towards a spot where no cars go. There is nothing but grass, trees, sun and sky accompanying her and her bike as she lies down, places the bike on top of herself and frees her breasts from the dress; they are pushed up against the bike’s cold hard steel.

This English bike love comes thanks to the inspiration of our fully-packed London show, which generated the very effusive and emotional review from First Days, documenters of London’s art scene. Maybe all of our European reviewers talk like that about us, but now that we’re off the continent this is the first time that we haven’t had to screw up their compositions with Google Translate.

Here is their documentation of our drag race outside the show:


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