tales from an ordinary world

2003-01-26

I am a lonely stretch of grass, comforted by the hum and crackle of overhead power lines. A healing walk to the old station, piecing together events. "You don't remember talking to her, do you ?" "not really," I'd sheepishly replied. Old houses I used to frequent, in the street where almost "everybody" lived. Turn the corner and remember words from the afternoon before, her feeling of being caught in the middle. I'd slept for 14 hours, apparently. All I remember is waking at 1, the air conditioning on, the night air just the other side of a wire-screen door.

I stopped for a moment near the library, in front of what used to be my kindergarten but is now an empty carpark in front of rubbly ground with a sign saying "do not walk here". I remember a car ride home one day, courtesy of a classmate's mother - a small sports car, I'm guessing it was orange, but maybe just because it was a sunny day.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of being of use, when two Korean girls ask directions to get to the tram to St Kilda beach. We walk and talk, I try to ask all the "right" questions, to suggest places for them to go. As I leave, she says "thank you for your kindness". The kindness of strangers.