there are two green bins stationed like sentries down the driveway, standing in their stillness, emptied of their worries and ready to take on more. they've been cleansed, lucky bastards. they watch the grey of the morning and have no thoughts to why they do, they just do and do and do. they have a ritual, an unchanging routine that they can cling to, especially on days as dreary as today. no thoughts on retirement, on wether they have enough super or if they're ever going to really meet the 'right' one, there's no discontent in them, they dont entertain thoughts on how much one can truly repent...

i'm going to get up in a moment, check the mail, then i'm going to kick the shit out of the bins.