Ethan Switch - Friday, 14 March 2003 - 00:22:55 - print it raw
The paradox and fluctuation of the entity known as time is a most confusing behemoth to comprehend and understand at the best of times. After seeing the lines taken in it becomes nigh impossible.
In the first, a train arriving late still had passengers attempt to wedge themselves in between the doors just as they closed. The guard commented as such: "This train is running five minutes late. Which means you would have had five extra minutes to work out whether or not this was your train." Which should make those watching the body lain on the tracks—sliced awkwardly in two—aware and appreciative of the fact that the new timetables still have not been printed, nor likely to.
And not far from the action of sleepers and surfers, an institution known as the corner store or milk bar. Not any more. With the passing and the at times intangible relation to money, the quick and greasy snacks filled with wanted pets and returned mail have been taken over. Their home and roost demolished and replaced by a restaurant. From the convenience of a 10 second transaction and meal that returns in 30 minutes, for a 30 minute meal that costs in the regions defined by a ten dollar note.
Time for a token gesture.
Lick the red box and keep a fresh and up-to-date eyeball on our latest reviews, articles and filthy somesuch. Or kiss it.
Undone, unbound, the sounds aground, life's taking the train with a soundtrack of harmonic dissonance, of inner turmoils and evolutionary spotchecking.
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