A page from a newspaper, its neat middle crease still intact, is being blown by a winter wind down the tram tracks on Fitzroy Street. When it lands it creates a different wind resistance each time, sometimes wide open and immediately blown on again, other times folded, static until the wind changes direction slightly, catches a corner, sends it on its way.
I wonder if the paper feels it is standing its ground, cursing its inability to adapt to the changing wind and hold on, or if it feels it is flying towards a wondrous future, cursing its inability to adapt to the changing wind and fly faster?
I wonder if the paper feels it is standing its ground, cursing its inability to adapt to the changing wind and hold on, or if it feels it is flying towards a wondrous future, cursing its inability to adapt to the changing wind and fly faster?
And that's today's news.
Parkstreet
No comments:
Post a Comment