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The gut churning aroma of bitter coffee dregs, melds with the stench of recycled saturated fats glugging in less-than-gleaming vats along the rear wall of the Eddy Avenue Express Diner, its neon sign splattered with deceased bogons drawn like the proverbial to the flame. A frosting of pigeon guano cakes the torn awning not unwound in more than a decade.
Pulling last year's grey-coat around my chest, I cast my sight low, and thrust into the first chilly blast of autumn.
8 comments:
I love all kind tunnels. Your one is really good.
Regards from Finland.
Y'see, Julie, if you'd spelled 'bogongs' correctly as in 'moths', I wouldn't have done a double-take from reading it as 'deceased bogans'.
But a lovely piece of writing anyway.
Darling FM - I rewrote and rewrote to ensure that I made the difference clear. But drats! did not think that there were two spellings. And I managed neither!
I shall leave as per original, to ensure other readers a smidge of Friday fun ...
I assume it's the bogans that are responsible for the tagging on the sandstone that was only recently beautifully restored. ;)
Wonderfully composed even with the bogans.
Fabulous description.
But think of the lovely colours that come with autumn.
That chilly blast of autumn was quite a shock earlier in the week though it has warmed up nicely again thank goodness.
Your words remind me of the Slessors William Street
"Smells rich and rasping, smoke and fat and fish
and puffs of paraffin that crimp the nose,
of grease that blesses onions with a hiss;
You find it ugly, I find it lovely. "
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