Sometimes I wonder if my imagination gets the better of me, as the seagulls circling above me seem to be acting like vultures. I am sweating and its around 9 degrees in Hobart. The street is bare enough for a tumbleweed or two and the long weekend shopping I have on my right hip is starting to feel like a six-shooter. The brim of my non-existant hat is shading me from the non-existant glare of an almost non-existant sun. Im half-expecting someone to approach me and call me either Pancho or Gringo. I wish I was about to bite into a takeaway taco, so added authenticity might somehow sooth my wandering sanity. Fear not though. Heat exhaustion can drive the strongest mind to distraction. 1, 2, 3pm the towers bell sings, dings and rings as I await my green and yellow steed. Ok, the bus is here. I just asked the bus driver if he goes to where I want to go. He doesnt know. Theres something surreal about a long weekend Monday; more for some than others. Patsy may be wondering where I am, but Im happy in my uncertain world of Panchoism and lost bus drivers. At least the seagull vultures are rendered powerless by this roof, although my imaginary suntan will suffer for the cover. Adios Alicia!
Posted on: Mon, 09 Jun 2014 05:12:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015