the stalls all seem to have some sort of agenda, refugee groups, african food, south american music, indian jewellery. ironically veronique and i are the only exotic looking people in the crowd apart from a couple of dark skinned people. we wander over to the stand where a man is offering some south african bread for tasting. this is our national dish he proclaims. it's bland as fuck, i wouldn't eat it but in the interests of society i nod my head and offer various platitudes.
an australian man obviously taken by veroniques attractive look moves in, 'where are you from?' he asks.
now i hate it when i am asked this, i only get asked this in australia where racism is so entrenched in the blood of it's left wing harmony groups they are able to be rascist while declaring it something they fight against. no one else cares where i am from, only fucking australians have to have an ethnocentric label so they can divide you into a tribe. idiots!
veronique and i have discussed this, we never get asked anywhere else but australia. i mention i have a strategy which shuts people up when i always answer, iceland. veronique says she always says bondi.
we leave the beach and go find some healthy juice bar. nicole buys me lunch.
the world is okay today. the winter sunshine is wonderful, blue skies, the birds are happy, i was in perfect harmony until the united nations fucked up everything with their stupid harmony day.