tales from an ordinary world

2003-03-22

Late morning rain and the Go-Betweens. There's a hole in the clouds now, just across the street and above the shops - a little doughnut-hole of blue. Cow-print car seat covers in front of me. A handful of church spires up and down the street. Night and day, night and day, night and day. Somewhere along the walk home, I notice somebody had scrawled "I don't want your money, I just want your love" into some concrete.

A familiar voice from long ago on the tram. The name comes to me in an instant though I don't know why, and they don't recognise me which is good, because I'd have nothing to say. But I remembered the constant rhythm in the voice towards the end of each sentence. It just seemed to stick.