Neverfall Thursday

Local chap, face red with sun or stress or an alcohol absence-presence problem, claims in super-condensed form recent goings on in the flats, which myself and studio now call home: bikie rape; prostitution; guy climbs drain-pipe - 7 floors - to enter window he'd observed open through summer, on the off-chance something might be in there, someone might be not, and that he might be able to escape. Giant guy dismissed from nearby psyche-ward, prison tattooed, when not taking medication, runs naked round the flats, hammering doors, screaming, taken by police. Clothesline near communal laundry favored by local thieves on run from police, needing quick-change of identity. And the security gate out back - just replaced: gang hops fence, steals a car to ram gate, then leaves in another, more preferred. And everybody knows the front gate's always open.