A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Three- The Taste Of Cat Fur
We are still chilling here. The Kandinsky is apparently gearing up to leave, though we are not sure when. In what time we have left I am going to do another gig, try and get some new material down, and put the memory of getting lost in Duchamp to bed. I am in a deckchair covered in inspirational quotes, and stroking one of the cats. This one had the taste of peppermint.