The city is Perth, Australia. The stories are real enough.

The obsolete kilometre. We know the globe as a patched work of countries...   History is as close as yesterday. Memory snips around stories...   The speed of life. Darling machines we live with...   Tale(s) of public transport. I bus to Perth / must cost less...   A poem about pedestrians. There are no footprints in the City...   The looking-glass city. Winter passed in procession, rapid...   A city born at the crossroads. Long ago, before the first cities were built...   Your own little bit of nature. High walls: the weeded gardens...   Manhattan ash in the living room. Bound for the new world...   Song for a suburb. Unlike happiness, you can't buy a home...   Return to Hand Written...

All writing copyright (C) 2001 Todd Owen. Email: towen@lucidcalm.dropbear.id.au. Viewable with any browser. Lynx friendly.