First Memory of Sydney (as requested by simone)

Jessie and Icarus had just retrieved me and my enormous pink duffel bag from the airport. We had to return an hour to pick up Chris so rather than drive to Bondi she took me to a small river inlet by an industrial park and a grassy hill cut into by a crumbling sidewalk. The river is protected by a linked fence and the air is surprisingly chilling; a wet damp bite, but the sun is high and warm on my face.

I don't know why we are laughing but the three of us are. Jessie is saying she thought I must need to breathe fresh air and see even the smallest bit of water, to feel the sereated blades of grass after the hours I had just spent packed into the airplane. she is right. I am feeling too turned around to actualize that the landscape that I'm looking at isn't an American one.