Perth 2017

Melbourne
Heading out to the airport in the early morning light. The whole city, the suburban weatherboards to the steel and glass skyscrapers, bathed in rose. Gracias a la vida, desde mi corazon.
Landing
Ah, Perth. Seems it was always destined to be a complicated relationship, wasn't it.
Fremantle
I'll tell you what's cool. What's cool is two old men in a beaten, though not defeated, Hyundai hooning through the wide roads and avenues and highways of Fremantle, belting out Seven and Seven Is, Psychotic Reaction, I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night, Alone Again Or.
And laughing till they're hoarse.
Yeah.
That
Is
Really
Fucking
Cool.
Kewdale
The names: Abernathy, Arthur, Belmont, Oaks, Stockdale, Acton, Towers, Scott, Kew... All and always leading back to Knutsford Avenue.
The middle aged European couple over the back on Arthur Street, slouching about their summer soaked front yard in matching his and hers fake tiger skin underwear.
Hey! You the kid who's always taking our almonds?
I dunno, maybe.
Well don't.
And after that I'd have to keep watch from the window of the caravan parked around the back of the house in which I lived, to make sure they'd gone out before stealing any more if their bitter, nearly ripe
almonds.
And Tomato Lake defying all conventional wisdom by actually being a lot larger and more scum covered than ever it was when we played there as kids.
These strange and stupid shards that keep sticking out, still cutting deep.
Yeah, Perth.
Like I said before. It's complicated.
Leaving.
Another double decker, another magnificent view. Pete, Jeannie, Rache, Jay, kids, and Helen and Brett for good measure: I love you. Thank you for every countless ordinary miracle and for teaching me that if you can adult with a modicum of dignity and a heartful of courage, then one day I too might succeed.

Lay Down.