A ballpoint fast, full of work in mind

Melbourne

The people of this city mirror the weather that is the norm here. Their faces glum, they walk below the overcast sky, clothed in long black coats. The women wear their hair in a tight bun. The men have their shirts buttoned right up to their collar, and then secured with a tie. With steaming cups of coffee in their hands, they walk fast, purposefully. They smoke incessantly.
Just as the architecture here is beautiful beyond description, the people too are a work of art worth a photograph. In every alley they sit, in small cafes talking over foccacia and scone. In every tram they crowd, clutching their shopping bags close to them.
Ever so often, i stop in my tracks to re-orientate myself. This is not London.

This is a postcard.

Melbourne is that rare jewel you discover hidden amidst a heap of dirt. It is that hundred dollar bill you find, serendipitiously, in an old wallet you were going to cast away.
You don't believe your luck.

And then the jewel is sold and the money is spent.
You leave with what you always had.