I passed a million anonymous faces as I walked down the wrong side of George St. Well, maybe a thousand. How many people pass in crowded streets in a 30 minute period? And it must have been the "wrong side". Everyone else was walking in the opposite direction to me.
Straight faces, black cladding. Blessings on their blackness. May they be wearing brightly coloured undies. So many of them, I'd like to cup their faces in my hands and blow warm air on to them. But do they really need warming? Probably not. They are probably simply reflecting the hard pavement so they can blend in rather than stand out: a comfort thing.
I do enjoy a long day in the city. I like seeing the mix of funky-dressed-down 20 year olds and grey-haired men in business suits with shiny shoes who have been doing this for 40 years. You know, they're "out there"... talking, walking the streets, having a laugh, making a living. I wonder if they laugh this much with their daughters. Or sons.
Tobacco smoke and city fumes collecting in my nostrils. I've never liked tobacco smoke in my nostrils.
Large glass panels.
Tall flower arrangements.
So much electricity.
Drum & bass café beats.
Hot earl grey tea to sip.
My much-loved old friend Lib wrote on the invitation to her 18th birthday party:
Straight faces, black cladding. Blessings on their blackness. May they be wearing brightly coloured undies. So many of them, I'd like to cup their faces in my hands and blow warm air on to them. But do they really need warming? Probably not. They are probably simply reflecting the hard pavement so they can blend in rather than stand out: a comfort thing.
I do enjoy a long day in the city. I like seeing the mix of funky-dressed-down 20 year olds and grey-haired men in business suits with shiny shoes who have been doing this for 40 years. You know, they're "out there"... talking, walking the streets, having a laugh, making a living. I wonder if they laugh this much with their daughters. Or sons.
Tobacco smoke and city fumes collecting in my nostrils. I've never liked tobacco smoke in my nostrils.
Large glass panels.
Tall flower arrangements.
So much electricity.
Drum & bass café beats.
Hot earl grey tea to sip.
My much-loved old friend Lib wrote on the invitation to her 18th birthday party:
"When in doubt, underdress - and don't bring any goats."
There were no goats in the city that I saw today.
No comments:
Post a Comment