S P C | Rīga, ‘Miniparty’

A small party for no more than six. Whose paths I’d crossed in six weeks in Latvia. In the end we had four: we read a play, we talked about everything and nothing. And we saw each other. Like, really saw. This was the beauty of it, the showing up in real life to make it *happen*. Six weeks’ worth of investigating, and investing, in chats and initiations of random conversations really was exhausting. Especially in foreign lands away from your adopted new home. Much changed. These were the tickets. We had a good moment; magic, in that space. These were the invitations: