There's a nurse on the stage. She's blonde and perfectly bodied. She strips so slowly; I wonder if she'll ever get down to nothing... She acts just like a nurse with all the other guys.

Beside me: a clean-cut man in an expensive suit. My eyes are drawn to the buttons down his chest - they're so grey and shiny like hematite. She's good eh? I nod and half-laugh...

We talk about life. He asks, So now what? And I shrug. So now what? I have a basic degree. I work. The nurse is naked; her breasts are smaller and her nipples pale. Tattoo down the front of her right hip. He tells me to reject the advice of my parents and to now give back to life instead of just taking what it gives to me. The nurse is slowly spinning down around a brass pole, floating in the air, those breasts and white languid legs. His drink glows in the black light.. gin? I drink from a bottle of beer.

Why would you want to write? he asks. I explain how a painter uses canvas and colour to interpret the world. I think I can use words to do the same... maybe. It's my medium - more than spoken word, drawing... photography? When did I stop pushing forward in life? This job.. who ever dreams of being a bacteriologist? I never did.

I missed that stripper to talk to you.

Maybe I don't even want to write anymore. I can't tell what I want to do. Rejection from two universities means something... water water water I drink from the tap I know it's clean.

Robins already? Dawn and I haven't slept. The sky is pale blue/white -