It starts innocently enough. You decide, like you do many times a day, to go to the bathroom. At the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, you walk innocently down the dimly-lit white hallway, past the coat check. You pull the bathroom door open and BAM you are shocked and amazed by a flood of red. Red ceiling, red floor, red walls. It’s like being inside an artery.
Go to SFMOMA. Just go. And don’t forget to go to the bathroom.
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