I saw the mental woman who hangs out on Gertrude Street, up a lane way on her knees with her arse in the air, pissing in the gutter. There was a stream of urine shooting in a straight line straight out the back of her, in a kind of arc down to the bitumen behind her. Her face passive, expressionless, staring straight a head, I guess, until the job was done.
A cat dozed on the lawn in the sun, with a paw over its face.
Granddad played bacci with his mates, in the grounds of the commission flats. Clack went the balls. Clack, clack.
A bird flew into a window with a worm in it’s beak, thump and then fell down dead.
A hairy, Lebanese boy stopped, panting, at the lights, dressed only in jogging shorts. He adjusted his considerable bulge, as he waited for the lights to change, as I watched him.
A dog chased a car, I haven't seen that in ages.
A girl rode passed on her bike, in Victoria Parade, crying. I wondered how she had come to that?
A young boy yelled, excitedly, at his grandmother, holding a balloon, as they crossed the park.
A boy with his eye taped shut with white gauze tape, gazed at me in Spring Street. He startled me for a minute, he looked weird.
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