Rain on steeples. Rain droplets on the tram window as we pass the grand old Windsor. Did they use Sydney sandstone on her?
And a fire engine wahs and splashes up the road.
I touch gritty walls in Cafe Nova on Brunswick St. Is shabby black chic a movement?
I met an author. And watched a performer forget her lines while Karen Carpenter played in the background.
My hair curls prettily in the rain.
Rain can make me feel f*****g creative. And so can anger.