Every girl I see on the train seems to be busy putting on her makeup.
I guess it’s an important day. In the spirit of the season, I want to try
and find the words to say to the one near me that she’d look
just as good without spending so much time covering her face with so
many different things, but it’s hard to say something like that
without getting the words arranged horribly wrong and besides, it’d be violating the
rule of Not Talking To People You Don’t Know when you’re on public
transport. Yesterday, a guy behind me on the tram said “Merry
Christmassssss” to people who’d sit near him. Each of them would then
get up and move somewhere else. I’m sure he meant well, but
people are jumpy these days.
The public transport’s runing free today, and I’m off to the
south-eastern suburbs, the old land of promise. The only other time I
was in the city on Christmas Day it was overcast and gloomy, which fit
the ghost-town feel of seeing everything closed, and only a few people
wandering around the CBD. This time the sun’s out, and there’s a good
feeling in the air. It’s Christmas, after all.