australian gothic
- we all refer to the prime minister by their first name. we know them well, and they know us. all of us.
- there’s a man on the street corner who never leaves. “just waiting for a mate,” he says. you realise he is on every corner, of every street.
- you are swooped by a magpie in the same place, at the same time, every single day. “it’s swooping season!” says your neighbour. it has always been swooping season.
- sometimes you hear a woman whispering late at night - or early in the morning. “rage” she hisses. “rage”.
- the prime minister never seems to last long and often disappears through no discernible democratic process. one of them eats a raw onion in an attempt to assimilate. he is gone by morning, replaced by another.
(via circularblades)