The crowds are moving passed me like cars merging through the lanes in the heart of midday rush hour. I can feel the distance between us, a huge void, for I am and will be for a long time, the perfect stranger. There is a pulse that I'm looking for, I don't know what or where is is, but I'm sure it's here, somewhere...
In the weekends Fremantle is very gentle and kind to me, almost seductive, for come monday it will spit me in the face again. It is too beautiful to let a smug face like mine walk around all unwashed.
You reap just what you sow, that's it, you get what you give.
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