In Transit
I feel as though time has stopped. I’ve felt like that a lot since I departed Sydney a few days ago. It’s a combination of different time zones, emotional exhaustion, odd sleeping habits and anxiety.
I feel as though time has stopped. I’ve felt like that a lot since I departed Sydney a few days ago. It’s a combination of different time zones, emotional exhaustion, odd sleeping habits and anxiety.
I am winding up my last week here in Sydney before I head home to San Francisco via Singapore. And tomorrow is Anzac Day, the one day of the year we thank those who went into battle for our nation, and those who are currently serving.
I switched on the TV and the lounge room flooded with the familiar voices of Kruk and Kuip. On the other side of the world, I was plugged in to the SF Giants – my World Series-winning baseball team. And all without searching for it.
Last Friday night, I was lucky enough to score a ticket to the opening of the Archibald, one of Australia’s premier art prizes. I love the art, the controversy and the debate around this event: the Archibald always delivers. And this year is no exception.
Tonight, two of the greatest people in the world stood up in front of their friends and family and formally announced their commitment to each other. It was a night to celebrate love and the momentous decision of forever. And it could not have been more perfect.
In the few minutes it took me to drop my grandmother home with her shopping, a majestic Sulfur-crested cockatoo was struck and killed by a passing car. I saw the members of the flock arriving, big white birds swooping in over the road ahead, a lifeless white body lying on the asphalt.