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Welcome to the BURO.Hotel

You can check out any time you like but you can never leave. We threw a (magical, mystical) party and you are all invited


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Through a darkly lit hallway, cool waves in my hair 
Warm smell of canapés, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw the bellboy’s light
My tarot read, and my coat was in, I had to stay for the night.

An old army barracks deep in central London might or might not be the secret location of BURO.CULT.

Either way, for one night only, we invited guests to initiate and integrate themselves, to take a different view and to truly put the cult in cult-ure.

There he sat in the doorway; I heard the BURO.cult bell
And as I sat with The Leader I thought
'This could be heaven or this could be Hell'

Once initiated into the cult of BURO. would the new members drink the Koolaid? Or the Black Tears Spiced Rum cocktails, Pravha Beer and Pol Roger Champagne? (and what exactly was with those six pillars of BURO.cult tarot cards?)

Then I opened the curtain, and they showed me the way
There were gurus on the dancefloor,
I thought I heard them say...


New members danced (all night) with immersive performers, VIPs and the most deeply influential of influencers, to DJ sets by Fat Tony, Disco Smack and Emerald. Inhibitions and iPhones were lost, the divine sign of a truly excellent evening.

Plenty of room at the cult of BURO for you
Any time of year (any screen you’re near) you will find us here

No one dared leave. Until the music ran out, along with the champagne and the Coach grab-a-gift arcade machine. Then it was time to hang up our masks and capes and venture back out into the real world. But would it ever be the same (or as strange) again?

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget...

ImageS I James Kelly and Dave BennetT

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