Once again, I’m sitting in my parents’ spare room, suitcase packed, Melbourne-bound. For some reason I feel nervous, as if I’ve never done this before. For today’s post, I thought I’d share a little something I wrote the first time I moved to Melbourne.
Is there beauty in a skyline, a city’s fractured spine?
Trampled, photographed, built and destroyed, all by little people with hard heads, or hats.
You can’t own a city, but you still want a piece.
It’s my city. Our city. Not your city.
You’re never alone. You’re always alone. Too small, but filling too much space.
It’s hard to stay but harder to leave. It’s got you now, the city.
Maybe it owns you.
Thank you so much for reading.