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.
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.
My mother has a rather strange aversion. It’s not a stereotypical one, like fearing rodents, or freaking out over spiders, but one that filled her with dread for more than a decade: She cannot enter the women’s locker room at her old golf club.
Somewhere in the nexus of the Unites States, Australia and Thailand, my sense of self went AWOL. I have forgotten what it feels like to just be me. So I’m on a mission to return home to Sydney, and reconnect with my loved ones. But I’m also there to work on reconnecting with myself.