I've searched all the parks in all the cities — and found no statues of Committees.

If you stroll around Battery Point for even just a short while, you will find no shortage of evidence that we are indeed another colonial outpost of Mother Britain. I do wonder what these names mean to most Tasmanians though...

Here's a poem that took me forty five seconds to write on the bus yesterday morning. I'm not sure as to the wisdom of posting it sans reflection, but sometimes I just can't be bothered.

untitled
i loved that time
way back when
way way way back when
when you weren't talking to me.

me.
back then you knew everything
and I knew nothing.
but
the nothing I knew
knew your
everything
meant nothing.