Are you coming? You consume my thoughts. I am longing for you. My neighbor on the plane tells me that her father got married in Vegas at a drive-in chapel. I tell her that you, too, have done the same. Your name is the only thing running through my mind. Everything here is big, loud and bright. I wonder what Las Vegas was like when you were here for your first wedding in the 90s. The wait is agonizing. All is quiet around me, interrupted only by the roller coaster that rushes past my window every 3 minutes and 48 seconds, carrying with it chilling  screams from those who crave the rush of fear. One more night and we will be together. I'm wearing a white dress. Remember how you wanted to wear a white dress for your wedding with Greg? I hope you'll wear one this time. I finished ironing it. It’s too big. I’m swimming in it. There’s room for you.

I dreamt that the hotel gift shop was selling key chains and magnets inscribed with

“Sophie and Olympe, Just Married.”

Sunday October 12, 2025. Little White Chapel, Las Veas.

Waiting for Sophie.

Installation view, “I am Sophie’s Wife”, Not That Deep Gallery, Brooklyn NY, 2026.

Sophie and I in Venice.