Heroin Or Ego

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Heroin Or Ego

So I'm walking up a lane between two old red brick apartment buildings, leafy, quiet, cool. I pop out onto a large pedestrian laneway, cafe tables and umbrellas, sunshine. A woman coming the other way, she's obviously just taken a large dose of heroin.

Her brain is processing information slowly, to her I must appear suddenly, from nowhere, not there one second then there. Her zombie eyes stare at me, her body walks in the direction she is looking. I step out of her way, by the time she fills the space where I was I'm gone, there one second then not there. This woman is accustomed to apparitions, staggers on her way without looking back.


After coffee, half an hour later, I'm walking past the posh shops around the corner. A shiny happy girl steps out of a shop right in front of me. She moves faster than a heroin addict, my arm collects hers as I side step her. She shouts abuse at me, an ugly mouth on a pretty girl. Her sense of entitlement, her belief that the rest of the world should step out of her way, it disgusts me.


I should go back but what can I say? Should I have to explain manners to a grown up? She'll be shocked if I tell her she has less class than a street junky.


Addicted to heroin or ego, the result is the same.


Parkstreet.
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