Bad ideas in bed.

In my first visit to Kandos, I've been imagining bad art in bed. Just as I'm falling asleep each night, I'm taking the things I see that day and assembling them into art projects, in the lazy haze of pre-sleep. They are not good ideas. They are comforting, though; a time for mental filing of terrible clichés. I used to work in advertising before art, and there they taught us to get those nagging clichés onto paper early on in the ideation process, otherwise they continue to drain resources from the brain which could be doing better work. I believe this to be true. So, after 3 nights of purging, my free associating has started to loosen, with more interesting results. The yellow glow of Kandos' sodium streetlights is somehow more welcoming than the flat, white light of day here. The town has a strange airlessness in the daytime; there is surprisingly little activity on the main street, with workers departing to nearby mines, agricultural properties and towns to earn their crust now. The cement works are guarded and still, too. Corporeal things don't show themselves easily here; the absences seem more pronounced.