This isn’t the story of Elisabeth Barrett Browning. It is a set of connected events in the city of Florence, between the Grand Tour and the present, all cut-up like William Burroughs and remixed to tell a story. It is a reckoning with colonialism, a balloon ride and a meta-museum, set to the sound of Rossi and Morrison and Black Flag. Street sketches emerge, some collages, with the graffiti of the city seeping in. There is some unravelling, but I try and stay true.