tales from an ordinary world

2002-10-25

Some days you try and imagine that she's just gone out for the night, and when you wake up in the morning she'll be back again.

Other days you ring her up, far across the waters, but you don't really know what to say - you just want to hear her voice.

Or maybe you're struggling to remember the particular nuances of her face, but each time you conjure one up you realise it was from a photo, rather than anything else.

On the other end of the phone you can hear the sounds of the evening bus ride, of people, movement and traffic. At your end there's nothing to hear, there's just a light above your head as you pace the lounge room floor or as you sit on the end of your bed, looking forward to another weekend of lonely lunches and a myriad of ways to kill time (but they're rarely useful ways).

It could be different, but it won't be for a while.