Everybody wants to get out - Anti-Travel writing on Sydney
I live in the West End Estate of Broadway Area Sydney NSW Australia. The surrounds are some of the highest retail rents in the Southern Hemisphere. The Estate leverages urban planning semiotics, architecture and points of reference that congratulate historical stock market monopolies of primary industry.
The fallow ports on the bay area that shipped goods are now amethyst postcard living. The resulting ambient aesthetics and culture are a stimulus-stimulus continuum. The code.
On Saturday night fireworks happen and clarion trumpets open the dog races. For the GB Shaw types I just took a pause of about forty seconds. Strong tradition of fabianism all over. Some say luxury. The city is no longer in lockdown for business. I had interesting encounters on the street late at night.
It's not a bustling metropolis though so tourist arriving will still say wtf is there to do? The stimulus-stimulus code placed me in this public housing area. The employed peeps know the glam housing as they quietly urinate the wines away. Any beards are just workers for local businesses. But stimulus-stimulus.
What the fuck am I doing here? If I got pipped for this line of property development concept I'm now thinking about a transfer. Or flip the dream of eternal beige and be a street slug. And go back to the grey slate when raining if that.
The fallow ports on the bay area that shipped goods are now amethyst postcard living. The resulting ambient aesthetics and culture are a stimulus-stimulus continuum. The code.
On Saturday night fireworks happen and clarion trumpets open the dog races. For the GB Shaw types I just took a pause of about forty seconds. Strong tradition of fabianism all over. Some say luxury. The city is no longer in lockdown for business. I had interesting encounters on the street late at night.
It's not a bustling metropolis though so tourist arriving will still say wtf is there to do? The stimulus-stimulus code placed me in this public housing area. The employed peeps know the glam housing as they quietly urinate the wines away. Any beards are just workers for local businesses. But stimulus-stimulus.
What the fuck am I doing here? If I got pipped for this line of property development concept I'm now thinking about a transfer. Or flip the dream of eternal beige and be a street slug. And go back to the grey slate when raining if that.
