Darlinghurst, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Dar-ling-hurst: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Dar. Ling. Hurst.
Showing posts with label Tropicana Caffe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tropicana Caffe. Show all posts
There are always plenty of boy-racers cruising the figure-eight circuit of Darlinghurst Road and Victoria Street in their hotted up hoon-cars, but until tonight I hadn't seen Batman's wheels in the neighbourhood.