Near Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, a woman shouts on the phone and paces in front of a business. “F - - k!” she screams. “I mean she’s my friend. I told her I hurt …” Her hair is an explosion of green and yellow spikes, and her vicious old smoker’s voice cracks with anger and bitterness.
But she turns around and her face is young. She can’t be more than twenty years old. This is her moment, right now. Why wouldn’t she just enjoy it?