“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.”
And I’m staring at this mouldy ceiling, wondering whether any story will start outside of the room. The paint was ripping and the dust was settling in but you found art in all of the flaws, made meaning from all of its brokenness. I wonder whether that was why you saw something in me, because when you found me, you saw how I could be put together.
Maybe that was why I kept you near. Maybe that was why when time came, you didn’t leave like Winter but you left like a spring.
It’s not the same. Something has changed. There’s a glow, a wash of warmth that I didn’t remember seeing before.
I guess this is the face of freedom.
It’s frosty today.
Fog clings onto the glass of the bus and the blur of colours sweep by outside, shades of green, white and the occasional hue of opposing cars.
Who would’ve thought that fond memories could be relived here, that the hint of love could be exchanged on a pane of frosted glass?
The space between us was going to grow, that much I knew; so much so that even if we were to sit next to one another, we’d just feel miles apart. Words would flutter between the empty space, taking roundabout ways to reach the ear. By then it’d be distorted into things we’d rather believe.
129 Cathedral St, Woolloomooloo (Sydney)
HANDS OFF SNAKEY
Recommend: “Champagne Papi” (my favourite), “Scone Wrong” and “Yid-Life Crisis”