These words flow from my highly frozen fingers as the rain torments the city and my sense of well-being. Welcome to Melbourne, city of trains and trams that run on time but where you get rain, hail, scorching sun and gale force winds; all in just 20 minutes.
It isn't all good news though. There are parts of this infernal cess-pit of humanity that just make me want to cry. The western suburbs are like a rusty shadow of their former rusty non-glory. Literally vast swathes of the west could fall down at any moment rendering the cardboard box houses and their pitiful inhabitants homeless. In stark contrast, the east houses people who can afford a ninth BMW but still have all the taste and class of a boiled cabbage left on the 112 to St. Kilda on a Wednesday night.
Just who was Kilda, and why have they been granted the status of sainthood?
Spencer St stands out like a wavy mess deliberately designed to look like a melted construction site, Fed Square isn't much better and RMIT (the thing that started all of this) is now a "covered in graffiti" mess of twisted insanity.
At least Melbourne doesn't sleep. You could in theory go to Myer at 02:33am... provided you weren't already re-cardboarding your rusty house.
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