Privilege is the ability to carry on thinking the world is just, to be immune to its cruelty by virtue of your station.
I realised that a lot later.
What a wanker, eh?
It was ten AM and fifteen seconds or so.
The Centurion’s Elbow, Lord Street. Heavily gentrified but still vaguely hip inner suburban Thrivesville.
Sometime in February.
“Just don’t do it,” I said, tapping nine bucks, total, for a house sauv and Diet Coke.
I put the drink, the soft one, down in front of them, and settled my perch.
“Kill yourself, I mean.”
Read the lot here.