Raggamuffin was pretty sick. It started out as one of those soopahot days. We sat down on the hill, gettin liquefied by the sun that simulated the feeling of being stuck in a sauna and the hot wind that simulated the feeling of being tortured by someone with a hair dryer on full blast. Then a couple of hours later, in true Melbourne spirit, a minor storm with rather constant rain and sporadic thunders visited the Sydney Myer music ball. Weather fail! Fortunately, the music was dope, and even more dope was the one and only Lauryn Hill! Now thats a woman!

Later this night I experienced a simulation of death. It looked a lot like the final episode of Twin Peaks. Which scared the living shit out of me as well as a need to re-watch the eminent 90’s TV-series of first class psycho David Lynch.