Clouds are not for treading on

I am home and The Peach has never felt more lovely. Lorikeets are raining merry hell on The Peach Deck and everything feels raised from the ground. Light and air. Melbourne feels lowslung now that I sit in my lofty perch.

Grizelda made me a special sign saying "Welcome Home". She stuck it on my bedroom door with sparkly stickers. The cat looked at me in astonishment as I burst through the front door with my bags stuffed full of dirty clothes and Melbourne things.

I am compiling, in a measured way, a report about my trip to Melbs but one important fact must be mentioned immediately. I can travel by myself without falling into the grip of menacing fear and uncertainty. This is new and solid as an artifact, as solid as the black box recording the absence of Gemma in my daily life. I think of her now wondering if she is pottering in The Hive or sitting on a tram. I wonder what she is wearing.

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