The Bird of Time has but a little way to flutter — and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing

Here is a bloody great big clock that can be found at the top of the General Post Office building in Hobart's CBD. I've shown it twice before, although both were night shots, the second showcasing Hobart's crepuscular beauty (did you see what I did there?). It's a good looking building, only slightly marred by the constant presence of smokers all down the footpath directly out front, and steps leading in.

I am not a fan of smokers. A particularly nasty sub group are the smoker-spitters. The smoker-spitter is the fellow that you imagine doesn't like the taste much, so alternatively sucks long and deep on his gasper, exhales, and then summons up all the crap that has built up in his lungs and beyond and spits it out, usually right in front of him. Nice, I know.

Ezra just farted.