I left her office feeling as if the thoughts of my mind were splayed out everywhere like clothes in a messy teenage bedroom. Therapy is like rummaging through the contents of your head, plucking things from their usual place and examining it in different lighting.
“It’s all of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Here’s a pic of me at about 4 years old with a mullet (thanks mum). All wide-eyed and innocent, not having a single clue about anything.
Whenever I listen to that song today, I can close my eyes and feel the motion of the car, the wind in my hair and this intense swell of love.
Melbourne is like Sydney’s anarchist sibling. It’s the one who went rogue; the middle child who decided to leave his cookie cutter Aussie family and be everything everyone else his family wasn’t.
I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I found this article in the School of Life and loved it so much I wanted to add it my blog and tape it to my bedroom wall as a daily reminder.
Whenever I go to the Blue Mountains, I like to imagine I’m going back in time. From boarding the rickety old tin train at Central station to off-boarding at the center of town, breathing in that cold mountain air.
Slip off your shoes,
and set them by the door.
These are the ‘gateway drug’ books that introduced me to reading and changed the way I saw the world.