The Embassy of the United Arab Emirate in Kuwait City by an unknown Kuwait architect . It was photographed by Arup Associates to analyze how Arab architecture in the Gulf has been affected by a rapid pace in economic development and infrastructural modernization. In this example, they observed how the traditional motifs and style found on Khaleeji mud brick structures were combined with those of other Islamic lands, such as the muqarnas borders. These motifs were then simplified and reflected on a basic marble structure.
‘where are you from,’ you ask. ‘north, south, or east of the city?’ ‘the west,’ they answer. the gulf st. vincent lives in their veins, in their blood. it pours out of their mouth, engulfing you. it is so salty.
the gawler line holds the title for ‘most recorded stabbings.’ who is doing the recording? why are these stats being collected? where do the survivors go? where do they go?
it’s so meticulously planned, the CBD. planned for what? only colonel light knows the answer. all we know for sure is that he’s not finished with the streets yet.
every night, the giant squid in the museum awakens, crawling from its eternal elevator shaft prison. ever seen the lights in the torrens flicker in fear?
no one ever actually volunteers for the Adelaide Fringe. all the workers are merely people who were trapped within the garden of unearthly delights when it closed the year before. they are so tired.
you are walking along Rundle when you see him, the charming old man that dances to the buskers. your eyes are drawn to him, and you feel the beat infect you. you join the man, abandoning your hard-won wares. you dance. the crowd dances. the busker consumes all.
the mall has balls. we don’t know why. no one has ever been able to offer an answer. they shine so bright, ensnaring all in its path. the tourists don’t know it, but the locals are scared. help us. help us. help us.
‘i can’t wait to get out of this city,’ the teenagers say. the city will never let them go. sooner or later, they’ll come crawling back. they all come back eventually.
you get on the train. it passes Mawson Lakes. it passes Salisbury. it passes Elizabeth. it passes Gawler. are you ever getting off the train? is it ever going to stop? is it ever?