Often, I like to feel melodramatic, it usually only happens at night or rainy weather (symbolism!). To solve this strong feeling and urge, I can do one of three things: go into the city, listen to a record, or watch The Virgin Suicides until I cry myself to sleep – instead of having to endure a salty pillow I decided to go into the city.
Perth is a small city yet it encompasses such a large area (larger than LA if I am lead to believe so), yet every time I walk beneath the shadows of the glass behemoths I feel so much smaller. It’s been at least 20 minutes walking, headphones on (listening to a mixtape of 90’s gangsta rap remixed into minimal electro), and walking past buildings covered in coloured light.
Shying away from the wind I look inside a foyer – it looks like a hotel but it lacks a sense of homesickness, and unlike hotels, seems to be inviting – and on the wall are 5 posters with motivational quotes and their speakers. I don’t recognise 3 of them, history doesn’t even remember only their disconnected words, but I see Ronald Reagan and Martin Luther King Jr. next to each other – two men of history, views juxtaposed, for a company sharing the man of the former rather than the views of the latter. I continue to breathe in toxic fumes, cigarette smoke and a depressing irony; I decide to turn my music off, stop for a minute, lit another cigarette, and fade into the thumping bass nearby.
in Perth, Western Australia, Australia
541
