Sucks Like a Dyson
Our week in Denver has been hectic. When I consented to letting Mr. Sullivan join me for this jaunt to Denver, I reminded him that it was a business trip. Much as I love discussing architecture, I simply wouldn't have much time to dedicate to taking photos of him or reviewing providential structures. Though he admired the Rocky Mountains which are of "juicy proportions", Mr. Sullivan was soon complaining about being ignored, and before I knew it, he was off on a tour of historic homes off Colfax and then to Cherry Creek.
Not that would complain, but I didn't see why he needed James Dyson as is tour guide. Though he has come back to our room at the Lotus Club of the Rockies every night, it has been after 3 a.m. with his suit perfectly vacuumed and smelling of espresso. He has been late or not showed up for most of our appointments together. I barely caught this snap of him racing past the Littleton city hall this afternoon. At this point, I am not sure we'll even be returning on the same flight together.
And here I thought it would be different with a 19th Century architect.