I’m sitting in a black vinyl covered swivel chair at Carnegie Hair place, Carnegie, of course.
It’s Friday night, Derby Day eve. I’m no punter, yet I love a racecourse. It is a mystery to me, I know.
Quite a while ago, when I was doing Yr 12, I remember coming across a book by Viktor Frankl. He was an Austrian psychotherapist. It might have been in the Moonee Ponds library, the spot I retreated to escape the noise at home, and to pretend to myself that I was studying. Or, I may […]
Micro moment of lighthearted suburban theatre on a day in which a collective grief was all too consuming
I’ve been sucked in to the latest supermarket promotion.
before the game