Jett and I were sitting in a café.
‘Oh look,’ I said, ‘a man out on his balcony.’ I pointed up at the man. The man was only in his singlet. His hair was greased back. I noticed that he was exceptionally skinny.
Jett said ‘He’s only in his singlet.’
Then I started to notice that the curtains were partially closed behind him and he was holding something in his hand. He looked back inside the dark apartment, called to someone and then he started to flick at something that I realised was a needle.
Now, I felt a rush of horror, but again, I thought, well, the addiction to drugs, is addiction to sensation. I was drinking a coffee. As we left the café, I saw cigarette butts crushed on the pavement. We walked past cola machines and cigarette machines and some women walked past with shopping bags, then we passed a group of teenagers decked out like pop stars - and we are all following sensation. Different levels. Different needs. But the same need. More excitement. More stimulation. More entertainment.
When I hear this same tune in my head, I hear Nirvana. Every time.