copyright phil whiteley
i have fond memories of the trading port,
even from the nearest cyber city it was
a days flight,the warm air used to hit
you as we left the plane door down the
steps onto the landing pad.
all manner of traders entered the gates,
bringing with them their stories,
their spices, ruffian ways
i was brought up in khartoum,and remember
well the super heated air that greeted you
as you walked along the tarmac from the vc10,
and the surreal site of a fokker friendship
somehow intact that had missed the runway
and ended up embedded in the side of a house
its walls missing, rooms open for all to see,
not unlike a telstra ad i did later for cream.
a childs dream in reality.