This past Saturday night, Toronto hosted a phenomenal artsy event entitled
Nuit Blanche. Running late, my friends called to tell me they were in line for an exhibit where authors were reading their favourite bedtime stories. "That's cute, " I thought. I like bedtime stories. I joined them in line as did another friend of ours. We eventually went inside and were greeted by a darkened room with pillows all over the floor and trays of hot chocolate and cookies. "Innocent enough", I thought. My eyebrow went up when I saw the programme that read "bedtime stories - fables and fantasies" and had a picture of a scantily clad woman straddling a smiling moon. Raised my other eyebrow as my friend invited his parents' friends (whom he had just run into) to sit with the group of us. As the emcee began to introduce the author, it became blatantly clear to all that the author was about to read his favourite childhood story.. as well as an excerpt from his recently published pornographic novel.
Well, I guess not all bedtime novels have sleep as an end goal.
