At this moment a young woman ran up to Annika and myself, holding a rough drawing of a young woman in a red dress with purple hair; “Have you seen this woman?” she laughed; in a moment, she was gone. I love artists, I really do. They lend so much fun to an otherwise stuffy setting. Though the event was chic from the ground floor to the roof terrace, it was the company that elevated the evening, from a typical New York fundraiser to an enthralling fete. The intoxicating spirit of youthful freedom and entrepreneurialism hung in the air.
The artist is an indispensable member of society, lending a unique perspective to an unchanging world. They foster thought in a stagnant populace and promote new conversation in a realm of repetition and broken promise. We all danced in the clouds that night as the sprawling city, framed in towering, floor-length windows, burnt below.
Go to Scllywag’s Photo Gallery.
