A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Eight- Snapshots Of The Jungle
Our journey through the jungle has settled into the closest you can find to a routine in Nadada. We gig every few days, setting ourself up wherever seems like a good location on board.I’m not sure any of the other crew members know or care by this point. I found our copy our contract the other day, and every line was the word custard again and again. It turns out there isn't the dead buried in the Earth. Only nonsense.
A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Five- Mirror Writing
A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Four- Rocked To Sleep
A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Two- Wild Cards
Crotti is what I needed after Duchamp.
Alongside the staff, about a hundred people remain on the Kandinsky. At the moment we spread across the island, and are almost enjoying a normal holiday. Time runs at a level that makes sense, and you can walk from street to the next without them hopping around. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of weird stuff here. I will discuss the cats next week. But for now here’s a rundown of I spend my time in this section of Nadada.
A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Eight- Reflections and Cisterns
A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty- The Sands Of Time
The desert is ready to explore!
Maybe deep under the sand is our cottages are buried under sand. Perhaps the monkeys carried Picabia brick by brick to fresh new lands. Whatever happened, sand and goats are all there is for 360 degrees around The Kandinsky. The sand underneath my shoes is soft, and reveals nothing of a hidden world. Even the hills have gone.