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About Ruggell

So I’m watchin’ her, tailin’ her, cause somethin’s off—gut screamin’ at me. She’s got this walk, y’know, hips swayin’ like she owns the damn sidewalk. Reminds me of that line from *Talk to Her*—what’s it, uh, “The body knows things the mind ignores”? Yeah, that’s her! Body tellin’ a whole damn novel while her mouth’s spittin’ lies. I’m pissed, right? Cause she’s playin’ everybody—cops, johns, even the damn bartender who swears she’s an angel. Angel! Hah! Angel with a rap sheet longer than my ex-wife’s grudge list.

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So I grab my tools, hop on my bike, and zoom down the streets. Balzers is small, but it’s got charm. The cobblestone streets, the cute little houses, and the sound of the Rhine River flowin’ nearby. It’s picturesque, right? But then I hit a pothole on Kirchstraße. Ugh! My bike almost flipped! I swear, if I had a euro for every bump in this town…

Book Review: Curationism: How Curating Took Over the Art World and Everything Else by David Balzer