Sydney

Sydney: a place that couldn’t wait to get rid of me. Please chew me up and spit me out into the isles of a 747 and take me away to another city.

A town where the sites lay buried behind overpriced outlets, and equally overpriced
food; unworthy in quality for even the most avid Smorgy’s patron. The stench of the harbour must by why everyone in this city walks around with their noses in the air, for it definitely can’t be the view of the monorail or bland Sydney skyline.

I tried to reach out to the homeless with an open hand, but was met with closed fists.

A sprawling, unplanned centre that drags in the most vile of biomasses left me uneasy,
uncomfortable and a little bit queasy. Maybe I’m wrong and it was me all along. Sydney is perfect and I’m the one whose perspective has been tainted by the beautiful mistress that is Melbourne.

First published in Rabelais.