Darlinghurst Days #1

The incessant throb and grind of traffic, interspersed with the jackhammer, crash of scaffold and wailing of the fluorescents clambering up & down, in to out & from street to sky. The noise, the bloody noise of motorbikes, trucks and recrimination. 

My world has got noticeably smaller, the Dog on the bed snores gently, the pile of books on the floor grows by the week. I don't read them, why should I? They will only remind me of the world as it used to be. 

Things will change though... as I refuse to go on like this.