Somewhere in Erskineville there’s a flock of colourful sheep but down towards St Peters 3 colourless creatures have turned up under the Coulson St railway bridge, and each day I pass they cause me to contemplate the difference between my existence and theirs.
I haiku’d these thoughts.
faux sheep flat city life
monochrome facsimiles
supplant the real ewe
The Bureau – Only for Sheep …a little trip back to the 80’s
A very full and minimalist post. Great sax, interesting photos and thoughtful words.
Like the haiku. Not something I have attempted. Yet.
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Thnx… Damn song was in my head when I was writing the post & it’s still there.
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