Last night before the parade I was sitting outside Hoyts on Manners Street, waiting for my friends to come out of the bathroom. A clump of about eight girls were hanging about, sharing around the bladder of a cask of wine. They were between twelve and sixteen. The older ones were encouraging the younger ones to drink up. One staggered over to sit next to me. She was crying a bit but seemed fairly happy. She showed me a bag full of clothes she’d bought earlier in the day. She said, “Three hundred bucks worth from Supre. In life you gotta stand on your own two feet, aye?” I couldn’t think of anything to say.
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