The Trading Post
- Sylvie: i woke up a while ago and got your message. I'm well! On a train, beautiful day here. My birthday was delightful... Sailing with mitch and an old fellow who we met in the trading post, and who brought a bagette and champagne and a sickly sweet coles birthday cake. Work is really good and one very good exam on wednesday so i'm happy.
- Erland: So the real question is: how did the old guy get inside the trading post? Must be cramped & a little 2D in there. What is work for you now?
- Sylvie: Well, funnily enough, that should be the question, however it occurs to me now that you mention it that 'How did we get in there?' to which i can only reply 'I don't know, blast it!', to which i also must admit that until we net the old guy in the paper i was working as a secretary for the Aboriginal Legal Service, however, for the last few weeks i realise that i've been working in the old-ads section of the Quokka where we use what looks like mops but with erasers on the end, to rub the ads off the paper before the new-ads people come along with their ink-bleeding rollerskates. It is a bit awkward, 2D, as you say.
- Sylvie: Meaning: 'How did WE get in there?'
- Erland: *sees the impending limitations & moves the conversation off text msg* ...to which I can only reply: http://loveyourchaos.tumblr.com/post/208992860 thinking to myself http://loveyourchaos.tumblr.com/post/208960061/you-would-have-seen-it-happen-if-you-hadnt-been and having little choice but to conclude http://loveyourchaos.tumblr.com/post/208957771
