SAINT JORGE/GEORGIA KARTAS
Naarm Melbourne / Writer
Working from Home
I am in a timber room lit by lanterns. A corvid that is either a crow or a raven lands in front of me, facing ahead, back turned to me. It twists its head and I know I am supposed to follow it down a set of stairs, into something that looks like a cellar.
I am at a bonfire in someone's backyard. Someone I've been chatting to on Hinge invited me. We smoke a couple of blunts and he drives me home.
Home is a large theatre stage with long draping red curtains. My writing desk is at the front of the stage, and the stage drops off into the ocean.
There is a pier nearby that connects back to land, where there are large colourful trucks and wagons belonging to a carnival troupe. One of the troupe members, a tall androgynous person with fish barbels floating from their face, clothed in luminescent pale pink and white silks, urges me to leave before nightfall. They say the carnival is haunted, and their smile is malicious.
I smoke two cigarettes at the same time, and find a secret passageway backstage.
I find my cat, who has figured out how to open the cupboard to her food and is stealing the tins. When I approach her, she hisses and swipes at me.