A Yeni Vatan Turkish newspaper sat opposite me on the tram and I flicked through it, briefly.
Memories fade so quickly sometimes, I am surprised.
"According to traditional custom, Aboriginal people are abandoned if they cannot travel," the description of a painting told me, at The Shared Sky exhibition at the NGV.
I looked at star trails and photos of space, that did not look real.
I watched the reflections of people in the window of the tourist information centre at Fed Square, while I waited for someone who was asleep, and perhaps dreaming, at that point.
I saw Tim Minchin perform that night, as part of the comedy festival, and one story he told was of having dinner with a girl named Storm: "Isn’t this enough? Just this world? Just this beautiful, complex wonderfully unfathomable world? How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of cheap, man-made myths and monsters?" Full beat poem on YouTube: Storm.
A band played loudly in ACDC Lane, as we walked past.
A black-haired girl on the tram, sounding sad and angry, spoke to someone unknown on the phone, "I was jumping around, screaming," she said. As I listened to more and more of the conversation, it sounded as if she had been rejected from a band, and I felt sad.
"We hope you liked our messages", the pavement had written on it.
Memories fade so quickly sometimes, I am surprised.
"According to traditional custom, Aboriginal people are abandoned if they cannot travel," the description of a painting told me, at The Shared Sky exhibition at the NGV.
I looked at star trails and photos of space, that did not look real.
I watched the reflections of people in the window of the tourist information centre at Fed Square, while I waited for someone who was asleep, and perhaps dreaming, at that point.
I saw Tim Minchin perform that night, as part of the comedy festival, and one story he told was of having dinner with a girl named Storm: "Isn’t this enough? Just this world? Just this beautiful, complex wonderfully unfathomable world? How does it so fail to hold our attention that we have to diminish it with the invention of cheap, man-made myths and monsters?" Full beat poem on YouTube: Storm.
A band played loudly in ACDC Lane, as we walked past.
A black-haired girl on the tram, sounding sad and angry, spoke to someone unknown on the phone, "I was jumping around, screaming," she said. As I listened to more and more of the conversation, it sounded as if she had been rejected from a band, and I felt sad.
"We hope you liked our messages", the pavement had written on it.
The sky replaced my MP3 player
Jun. 19th, 2007 08:53 pmThe sky flashed so many times, it was as if it wanted to take my photograph, like some kind of dysfunctional photo booth. I waited in awe, in the rain, at the bus-stop, listening to the sky, which had replaced my MP3 player, with gorgeously loud roars and crackles as music. The boy with blonde hair seemed to be looking at me, perhaps wondering why I was staring up at the sky and grinning.
I ate ice-cream as I wandered home, concluding once again that it does taste better in a thunderstorm.
The sun returned quickly and then the blue sky, but perhaps it will look dark over Will's mother's again soon.
I ate ice-cream as I wandered home, concluding once again that it does taste better in a thunderstorm.
The sun returned quickly and then the blue sky, but perhaps it will look dark over Will's mother's again soon.
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