We mentioned to a few different friends that we were going to Hobart. To my surprise, each immediate reply was are you going to MONA?
“Probably,” I replied to the first friend, NV, not that I knew anything about MONA. Rather, the way in which she’d asked the question had pulled that response out of me: NV was wide-eyed and her voice was low, yet abrupt, which conveyed to me that MONA was a strange spectacle and a case of Enter at Own Risk.
I wasn’t sure whether I was bound to love MONA or not. Was MONA an on an island? Was she an island? Or a dystopian town nestled in a Tasmanian valley, covered in fairy lights?