tales from an ordinary world

2002-02-24b

I sat on the sunny side of the bus, just for a change, as we wound our way back towards the concrete and glass and steel and people and beer and food and electricity. With an arm on the windowsill I watched all this go by me and through me. Digital clocks in all the primary colours. Flocks of cars taking corners like it was synchronized swimming. Backpacker hostels advertising Sky TV and a great time. Finally, we reached Spencer Street station - a journey from one departure lounge to another.

In the taxi on the way to the airport, I'd asked her if she wanted to wave goodbye to the city. "Nah. I'll be back soon enough."