tales from an ordinary world

2001-07-10

Another quiet walk home through Caulfield's streets. I've got them mostly to myself, if I tune out and ignore the cars. The tram depot's pretty quiet, even at 9pm. The shops are almost all closed, but you can see the odd shopkeeper still hanging around, enjoying the silence. So I keep going, in my boots, with their square front and inner-side zips, that took over from my trusty Blundstones, the only pair I'd ever had, that lasted me a good 2 years, and went to New York and New Zealand with me. I'm getting too big for my boots - the kid from the mid-outer suburbs, the guy for whom Zone 2's too far out to live, nowadays. Every street light's somebody I didn't say goodbye, or thankyou, or hello to. As I get closer to home, off the main road, lights come on, automatic or not, as I walk past. Car headlights temporarily blind me. This is not mine. This is not my street.

Current Listening :

• Atardecer, by the Friends of Dean Martinez.

• Horse Stories, by the Dirty Three.