tales from an ordinary world

2001-06-25

The dull buzz in the tram makes it pointless to dig for my CD player, and it's already dark in Melbourne Town, yellow street lights and passing cars. People are talking or reading, or listening, or juggling unwieldy items in their hands, but each is in their own separate world. Occasionally they'll acknowledge each other's presence. In the end though, we're all floating, waiting for our stop and once we get off it's over, we can go home, we can stop pretending.

I'm not a rock - a rock feels no pain. a rock doesn't falter. a rock doesn't disappoint people - but I am an island.