Walking home after the play, The Death of a Salesman
Yeah, sure, the play was good. Go see it, it's worth it.
I left David at his tram stop and walked the rest of the way on my own. It was a gorgeous night. The kind of night you could just wander aimlessly with a friend, chatting.
The Collingwood supporters were chanting all night, as we live on the edge of Collingwood.
Sam asked, "Why are they chanting?"
"Fuck knows? This is all they've got in their lives and this is the equivalent of a wet dream for them? The grand final with their team wining. At a guess." I don't know.