After 10 weeks,
Max and me decided to leave the tropics and move back to the city.
The rhythm is faster,
the noises louder,
the people different.
We found a place in Surry Hills
– little residential corner just below where the skyscrapers and the bus lanes collide.
There’s a supermarket down the road where I stop by in the morning
to get almond croissants,
a park with a rugby pitch in the middle
and a bottle shop a few steps away.
There’s no heating, the fridge is often empty and the stairs are steep,
but it feels good to have a place to call home.