Once in a while I long for the serenity and solitude of the Sea.

A man with a bike stops right next to me. He asks where I come from. I tell him. I am not from here. So he tells me a story.

There is an old part of this country and a new one. This distinction seems to be somewhat misleading as there is plenty of Old in the New.
I sense that something is different. This is not the usual crowd. The thought rushes by and fades. I step off the train, walk a few streets … and I see.
I linger in a village with just enough internet for an email once in a while. I get an idea why our ancestors stopped being nomads, or rather why so few nomads are left in the countryside.
Australia feels small for a continent, but vast for a country. It feels more like a collection of city states, each with its own rough backyard. Caught between seemingly unlimited mineral resources and a limited water supply, the cities prosper while the rest of the country is spread very thin. I heard the word remote a lot.