I walked home from the CBD to my flat in Potts Point yesterday. I left work a bit early at 4pm. No real reason just felt like it.
It takes me about 45 minutes to walk.
I start off in the CBD. Men in suits, women power dressing. It reaks of rat race and promotions and money.
Then the charity muggers. The bright eyed people trying to catch your eye to sign you up for ten dollars a month for some worthy charity. They rarely bother me. I think I’ve mastered the right look. It says don’t bother me I won’t give you anything. Or perhaps I just look genuinely scary to approach.
I like the idea of giving to charity, and do, but when you walk past a different charity rep every day you have to say no most of the time.
Now we’re past the CBD. Walking through Hyde Park. People are out sunbathing in November. Some look like school kids, some tourists.Some couples linger on the benches. They’ve probably arranged to meet up after work.
Walking down William St things take a turn for the eccentric. There’s a black transvestite prostitute women who has her spot there. She’s usually about int he morning, after looking like being up all night, but her she is in the early afternoon.
She’s extremely ugly for a woman. A large black man wearing a wig, bad makeup and cheap feminine clothes. I wonder who pays her.
Then past the Coke sign on to Kings Cross. Lots of young British voices. Backpackers passing through, or working in casual jobs and staying awhile.
Then there are the haunted faces of the drug users. Easily spottable. Head down. Always seeming in a hurry. An aura of violence around them. Often in couples, often arguing.
Then back home to Potts Point. Lots of joggers. They look like they have finished work, changed and jogged home. Sydney city centre is an absurdly fit city. Part of the joy of living in the big city, and city in particular, is the people.
Sydney human zoo.