I'm sitting in my room in Perth, and looking at all the things I have hoarded. Letters, notebooks, old magazines, silly hats, keepsakes. And it makes me think back to three years ago when I first came, how eager and excited I was. How I packed up anything that meant something to me, as if they were pieces of me, pieces of home, of safety and certainty–all the things I naively thought I would just cart up and carry wherever life took me.
So, so mistaken.