kings cross late at night, it's not what i remember, deserted streets, less neon, people and traffic. my big nights in kings cross do not come back, in fact i am surprised by how much i walk towards my destination without memory intruding. i'm following my phone which is telling me i am 20 minites drive away from where i need to be. impossible, this place is near the station and i need to be there on time.

i notice two girls fumbling in a door way and ask if they know where my destination is. 

they are very helpful and friendly but say they have no idea where it could be. i ask them if they know the number of the apartment they are entering, and when they tell me i work out it's literally two doors away from where i need to be. i thank them and wander down the street to a brightly illuminated entrance, where crystal balls, tarot cards and incense greet me, along with some bohemian types.

they make a big fuss over me, offer me food wine and i decline politely. there's a few chairs in front of a screen and some interesting faces. but along the walls are many old books and volumes that my eyes gaze upon and scan. 

i'm early and although i must say i liked the range of books nothing leaps out, except an issac beshev singer hardback that contains three novels all of which i have. but it's unusual, i've never seen a volume like that before. he's an author i adore.

later i grab a seat second row from the front, i put my bag down to claim it while i use the bathroom. when i return it's been taken by a large man and his estonian girlfriend. i move to the only vacant chair, front row.

when i first arrived in sydney i hung out in / on the cross, particularly at the book shop 'ex librus' which happened to be next door to 'barons' my fave bar. the old guy that ran 'ex librus' was surprised to encounter a strange english guy with long dreads whom seemed to have a well versed background in the magickal arts and esoteric lore but i was a new guy in town and needed to connect with sydney's current. 

from there i picked up a book called the witch of kings cross. it was a novel, a love story based around a woman artist called rosaleen norton. i enjoyed the book, a terrible tragedy about a scandalous affair between a famous conductor and rosaleen that shocked society. i liked rosee, she was amazing and obviously i investigated her amazed to discover she was not a work of fiction. when i finally saw her artwork, wow! i was bowled over. not just because it was so powerful but because it was so authentic. there were traces of austin spare, and lady harris but with much more power and blatant sexual energy.

i found her inspirational. 

last night i sat with the director sonia bible and a few lucky bohemian types and watched a private screening of a documentary called, 'the witch of kings cross.'

it was brilliant.

i really hope sonia reaps the rewards as she put so much of herself into this. and it appears had the blessing of rosee's family and rosee herself.

stunning!