But I Can't Bear It When Somebody

And Always Melbourne, Melbourne, Melbourne, Over And Over The Same Photo In Glaring Greens And Reds, Of A Tram, Huffy, Blunderous, Manoeuvring Itself With Pole Akimbo Round The Tight Corner Where Bourke Street Enters Spring.

I'm Full Of Restlessness. Not Lonely, Exactly - My Head Is Racing With Ideas. But It Is That Old Treacherous Feeling That Real Life Is Happening Somewhere Else, And I'm Left Out.

Well, I'm At Some Kind Of Crossroads In My Life And I Don't Know Which Way To Take. It's Not About Money, I Mean, Because I'm Established Enough Now As A Writer To Get A Reasonable Advance If I Wanted To Do Fiction.

It's Disturbing At My Age To Look At A Young Woman's Destructive Behaviour And Hear The Echoes Of It, Of One's Own Destructiveness In Youth.

The Rain Began Again. It Fell Heavily, Easily, With No Meaning Or Intention But The Fulfilment Of Its Own Nature, Which Was To Fall And Fall.