Bins and Pockets

I have blood on my sweater and I only washed it two days ago!
No, I Haven't been in any fights, just a nose bleed to go with the fever.
I feel a lot better today, I was even whistling in the shower.

It is 10.40 am and I am sat outside the Victoria library on Swanston Street. It's quite chilly but the sun is starting to rear over the building onto my back. I'm waiting here because I'm moving into a new hostel, the Greenhouse in the centre of town. I cannot check in there until after 12 noon and i have already had breakfast. In or outside the library is my favourite place to sit anyway, plenty of seats and plenty of space.
Looks and feels like it'll be a clear fine day today, a perfect day for walking in the hills or something. I wonder if that's possible today.

People stop to smoke by the bins in Melbourne. The top of the bins look like this: You put rubbish in the big hole at the top and butts in the recesses in the corner. Sometimes you see piles of butts, maybe 50 - 100. I suppose somebody pushes them in when they have cooled off.

I still wonder if I could live in a city. I'm entranced by them at first, but after I've had a taste of everything wouldn't I yearn for a change? I suppose not, cities are changing all the time. A lot quicker than small towns anyway.

When you're travelling your pockets become your home more than anything else. Everything of importance goes into a pocket, and eventually each pocket becomes designated for particular things. ie. my rear right trouser pocket for loose change. My right jacket pocket for my wallet, my left for my passport. Now that I have a cold though, I have tissues in nearly all of them too. Some used, some unusable.