hoping wishers never lose


I followed the concreted creek bed, twisting and turning next to the freeway. There wasn’t really much going on, apart from a car in pieces, and a bit of birdlife once the concrete gave way to a bike path alongside a more “real” creek. But only just. I pressed on to the Docklands, and watched security cars slowly pass me by as I passed what must’ve been those movie studios, all brightly painted with big numbers on the side. Under the bridge, a guy fished alone, watching little boats pass by. When I reached the café scenery, there were so many people I had to hop on a tram and get the hell out of there. A morning of solitude lowered my limits, I guess.

np: Supernatural from the album Drunk by Vic Chesnutt.