June 1, 2006
My old computer humming late into the night. The sound of the television in the next room. The flickering monitor. Outside below, the street is void of people, save for a lone, longhaired guy striding unsteadily towards Warwick Way. Plastic rubbish bags are neatly stacked in groups, ready to be collected. I can hear the Big Brother contestants showering on TV. And I can feel a tiredness seeping into me. Reading the new entries on this website, I have a satisfying sense of connectedness to other scribers in other parts of the world, and to those ones closer to home.