It is all true. I spend longer wondering where the fuck the 44 bus has got to than I spend contemplating the beauty around me, at least on week days.
Actually, I pride myself in one thing. At the bus stop each morning everybody else just looks up and down the road waiting for the bus to arrive, envying the gits in their BMWs one-to-a-car (wankers, like all others that pass one-to-a-car). I stand with my back to the road staring (probably in an unnerving manner) at Three Rocks Mountain, my guardian ... my home! Every morning I look and marvel at the beauty of the thing I marvelled at the day before.
Special ... truly specail.
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