The last rays of the day filtered gently through the window
“Tonight I will leave work and just run. No excuses, no procrastination.”
The song says you “were only 19” and many of you were.
I recently ventured on a black ops mission of art discovery.
With a shaking wrinkled hand and obvious pride the elderly gentleman slowly smoothed his silvery, thinning hair over his sun scarred scalp.
I was wandering through the Adelaide Central Markets toward my favourite little tea vendor when I heard the clickety-clack of a typewriter. Yes, a typewriter.