melbourne

“Hey, you!” I spin around, and a guy in a ute shouts “you’re a dickhead!” At this point, all I can do is confusedly reply with a “huh? what?” “Just keep walking, you dickhead!” And indeed, what else can one do? »

another sighting of the beanie book, on a tram. some things you just can’t escape, I guess. Graffiti near home says “talk is cheap, but shouting is free”, though I don’t want to live my life either way. The more you shout, the quicker you lose your voice. »

The dark closes in as I make my way out of town to an inner, inner suburb. People dressed in boots and coats and scarves sweep past me on their way home (I suppose). I’m running early again, and there’s not much to do but end up at my intended destination, all dark and woody and candle-lit. Earlier I stood outside [big corporation]’s building for a few minutes. A few suits were still there. »

Roll the tapes. Set me straight. There’s no sense in holding back now. I’m more acutely aware of how many hours I’ve lost to other things – I’ve had to start fighting for me time, I’ve had to start fighting the guilt which suggests that I’m not entitled. It’s a big hill. »

Weekends have been a flash of feet hitting pavements, flitting from place to place. I lost myself in hidden moments of solitude. I tried to walk more. I had to work, too. Things will be better soon, honest. Just another hill. Just another hurdle. The constant back and forth. Six of one and half a dozen of the other. Swings and roundabouts. Never stop, never stop moving. If I stop walking, I’ll notice how tired I am. »