After

So, this is what After is. Yes, After; the noun, not the preposition.

The performance on the Saturday, a happening if you will, at CentrePlace in Melbourne for the Streets of Melbourne festival.You know, one of the performances that weren't assholes on bikes, jugglers or people with purple spandex bodysuits on (maybe the only one).

Well, maybe not.


Basically, five men in suits (none of them will attempt to convert you into being a Mormon) sit, bounce energy and have their hearts explode.



Yeah, they're all strapping young lads.

who carry

and tango

and nuzzle the dead

and die on the dead

reanimate and drink coffee

and die on a Zebra crozzing on Flinders Lane (and be told off for running into a yellow car before doing so).


After After. Note the blood splatter on the floor/walls.

Who knew bike pump kits and Cottee's strawberry syrup would work so well?

Funnily enough, they mixed the skiz with enough detergent so it didn't stain.

But, they forgot about the coffee.