Oxford Art Factory’s First Birthday: Text Message to Self…

As I cloak my bag (and notebook, oops) a dude verbally admires my blackish purple dreads and I offer him a poke. (Of my hair). I’m writing this on the screen of my phone in the dunny line. I can call it that because I’m from Wagga.

Hmmm, hot ladies in large reading glasses… I attempt to envisage the whole evening as I…

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