Perhaps the hardest thing about insomnia is how isolating it is, writes Mark Starmach, but walking Sydney’s empty streets bring a kind of peace
There are no people on George Street. No line for cheesecake at Uncle Tetsu’s, but also no cheesecake. The traffic lights blip out their metallic song to coolly lit buildings. Even the trams have gone to sleep for the night.
At times I wish I was a machine like them, a robot who could power off precisely at 1.56am, then resume services precisely at 5.22. If only.
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