Her ears tuned in to the dissonant metallic notes that reverberated with every snip. She tugged those Shirly Temple curls straight and watched each lock elegantly float to the floor. They glided gracefully like feathers, forming a circumference of goldy-locks around her feet. How can something so light feel so heavy?
When I’m in the kitchen, I act as if I’m the star of my own cooking show. I detail every aspect of the recipe to the tea
spoon for my non-existent fan base; describing the taste and texture of the fusion that’s magically bubbling away in my cauldron pot. To make it even more legitimate, I add a pinch of fancy jargon (‘balance of flavours’, ‘respect the ingredient’ and ‘the star of the dish’ are the most common), and showcase an endearing idiosyncrasy (my bum-shaking/head-bobbing/pan-stirring action) inspired by the likes of the great lisp of Jamie Oliver. Yep if Law school doesn’t work out, cooking is my plan b, followed closely by floristry.
If your only experience of Sydney is frantically bolting through ‘troops in white collars’ on a mission to attend a meeting you are already late for, an espresso in one hand, a briefcase in the other, and your iPhone skilfully hoisted to your ear by your trusty shoulder…. You’re certainly missing out. If your venture into the city involves hurdling across the Druitt/George Street intersection to squeeze in a quick Woolies run before boarding the M10 to University… you’re missing out too. Actually, if you find yourself in the city with the intention of splurging at Top Shop, waiting for a train or getting wasted at the Cross …. well, you are denying yourself one of life’s most underrated pleasures; strolling through the streets of Sydney after dark. Nightwalking. Not purposefully exploring, just simply walking. Walking without being interrupted by the hissing of morning coffee machines, the roar of city traffic or the irritating buzzing of mobile phones. Escaping the noise that cloaks our existence by strolling in silence. Continue reading