I live near this small office building on the corner of the main road. It has a designer's office for posh kitchens and the local Liberal M.P. keeps an office there and an original t-shirt design shop. The last office, underneath the others, as the office is on the crest of a steep hill, is an empty glass fronted corner space. It's been empty since I moved here in July last year. The windows are dusty and have no signage to tell me what this large space was used for. It has a clinical, accounting feeling to it. It's a serious place, with no time for artwork to be hung on the walls or magazines offered to those who must wait. It's still furnished with a small sitting area, a secretary's desk and a printer to the side. There's a piece of paper sticking out of the printer. The desk has someone's eyeglasses on top of a cleared desk blotter.
It's remained like this for a long time. No one inside. No one has read the page in the printer. No one has come back to collect their glasses.
This scene makes me ask so many questions. I ask them every time I wander past this window on my way towards home. I want to know what the paper says. I want to know if there's a layer of dust on glasses. I wonder if they operate at night and that's why I never see them. I wonder if something terrible happened... then I really wonder what that paper says.
Today, the paper and the glasses were gone. Today I have many more questions but I also feel a bit disappointed because that scene has inspired so many explanations over the months, that now with the possibility of a new tenet, I've lost my regular mental wonderings. I hope the new people will be equally visually entertaining.
I went into town to get some bits and pieces for Sassyface's birthday this morning. On the tram home this morning, a man who was having an animated and disgusting conversation between himself and the voice in his head, sat behind me. He was talking about playing footie later, showing off for the girls. He likes the school girls who get on the tram. Where are they? The tram is no fun when the school girls aren't there, he grumbles. Maybe he should talk to her instead.
"Want to go for a drink?" (It's 10:30 am)
"No thank you" I answer.
"You're a bitch. You don't like me, so you're a bitch."
"Nah you're all right, it's your friend I don't like."
"Oh. I understand. Bye."
I left at the next stop.
The hedgerows have red fly agaric mushrooms popping up all over. I've never seen them before except in storybooks. I even looked for them every Autumn in Scotland because you'd think they'd be everywhere but sadly not. Australia; there are plenty. Deadly, poisonous and beautiful. Big too! I never realized they so large. I'm out to photograph them later.