Sydney | Sunday 24 March 2019
I went walking around Stanmore. A peaceful leafy suburb, Victorian worker's cottages and flaking pastel terraces lined with footpaths shaded by Frangipanis and draped with pink flowering crepe myrtles.
Coming towards the grey concrete roar of Parramatta road, I turned on my heel, back into the suburb, and looked for a place to sit down. I wanted to write something, and I wanted to just be outside for a while. I had a few things to do, but on this sunny Sunday morning, my last day in Sydney, I felt like just being there in what nature I could find.
My options, for a place to sit?
Sit directly on the footpath, on the ground with the rotten flowers and mouldy blackening leaves, my back against someone's front fence.
Sit on somebody else's front step.
Sit on the gutter, between two cars.Read More