My arms smell of trains. I have been on and off them about six times a day, each day, this week. This afternoon, on the Circular Quay to Central, an ugly toddler balanced on his mother’s lap, his eyes so wet from crying I felt thirsty all of a found myself buying a bottle of soda water. My tummy nearly split as I’d already drunk about ten glasses of bubbles at lunch.
Now, the cars are heading home and I’m running back through this week which has been pleasingly dominated by meeting interesting people from places I didn’t think would join forces with the Red Room : glass rooms with spy cameras; poetry scribing entrepreneurs and our lovely new intern, Emilia, from Sweden. How lucky this company is to have selected the word ‘company’ for ourselves and with it comrades and companionship.
