'I can't stop,' I say to the art historian who's been watching me install BIO. I fiddle with the placement of one last orange teabag wrapper.
He holds the door open and leans back to look at me, 'Even Michelangelo had to stop,' he says. 'Ha!' I say as the door swings shut, 'and this is no Sistine!'.
He pushes the door open again and jams his foot against it, letting cold, wet air flow in from the street. 'I've been to the Sistine,' he says, 'and this is better.' I splutter as he whirls off for a smoke. 'It's..BORING.'