tales from an ordinary world

2001-12-15

a few hundred men on my chest. A few hundred voices in the alleyway in front of me, between Little Collins and Bourke. I haven't eaten yet, determined to find something other than Japanese for lunch. Somewhere around 3pm, I end up in the Blue Train, not having eaten all day. A pint of beer and a meal. It's too nice to go home yet, so I stand under Princes Bridge and listen to the trams as they go past above me, sounding like some kind of eerie deathly wind.