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
supplant the real ewe
The Bureau – Only for Sheep …a little trip back to the 80’s