Shared custody

Not entirely yours, nor mine. That’s what “shared custody” is supposed to mean, our impassioned plea, which we’ve been making for a while now. Málaga’s entire motorway network can attest to our despair. Cause Casper ain’t the most sharing type. At first, it was all just glossoverable stuff. Lit shadows in somber corners, crooked angles, chi-disrupting hues, … But it soon escalated into a visual mayhem.

The rooms’ decor, for example, ‘cause I reckon you noticed? Monstrous! Almost like it’s bent on getting you to gouge your eyes out. As if recent events hadn’t put us through enough already! 

We had a different concept in mind. Much more zen doesn’t even begin to cover it. And it’s not like we failed to carry it out. We could have founded a museum on body positivity with the amount of Budas we were housing at some point. But it’s the light living inside, which seems to have choked on the colours it was supposed to faithfully reflect and shows a face of the walls that’s completely foreign to us.

Hence, we ask you to be lenient and grant us the benefit of the doubt, which doesn’t have to gel into a presumption of innocence.