As a writer I am occasionally lucky enough to review books. And a while back I reviewed a history of Wellington, which I used as an excuse to openly compare the Courtenay Place restaurant district to the Rue de Lafayette in Paris, where I once ate snails. The Kiwi version is on fast-forward and in microcosm.
Last night – not quite Halloween, but close enough – I was on my way to eat raw fish at the Courtenay Place sushi train and ran into a zombie walk . Maybe thirty people, white-faced and bloodied, lurching from one bar to another. Pretty convincing apart from the occasional break-out to answer a text. (“Braaains – braaains – oh …[tap-tap-tap]…er, where was I? Oh yeah…braaains…’).
Call it art? Sure. Do the French enjoy such amusements? Maybe. Kiwis do. And hey, this one’s for a novel.