What was I saying again?
I’m sitting at Gloria Jeans in Melbourne Central. My coffee is hot and strong. Perched on my bar stool, opposite the shot tower just along from the giant clock, it’s a perfect vantage point for people watching. They spill from the top of the elevator like robots off a production line. Since gaining a position as an editing intern at the Victorian Writers Centre, located at the SLV in the new Wheeler Centre, it’s my new Monday morning routine; I dash over to the park with the dog, walk to the station, catch the train, get absorbed in a book, alight and merge into the people river, flow with the current, materialise from the other end of the escalator, order coffee, and settle down to watch. I love it. The extra effort of getting up and leaving early is worth it. There is something alluring about having a leisurely coffee, on your own, and looking at life happen around you. Taking it all in. Filing it away in your writer brain. Observing the small details – the clothes, shoes, the gait