I wasn’t happy at first, but what’s that worth, anyway?

Warm twilight, the curtain pillowed like a white Rococo gown inhaling summer breath

Collapsed in sunbeams someplace time, stretching endlessly outward, felt restful, warm and sweet.

The pale young women wore dark clothes and black piercings. Patient and lethargic, they moved along the security line rolling absent stares like suitcases.

Sydney is like an overly ripe fruit: sweet, hot, sticky, and slightly overwhelming.