on the way home

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.