I’m not good at goodbyes.
Tomorrow I bid farewell to the coastal town I’ve been living in for the past few years in New South Wales, for Sydney, my old home. Well, I’m not exactly leaving for good, I’ll be back every month or two, seeing as though I have ties here that bind, e.g. family and good friends. I just finished packing. It didn’t take long, I’m not taking much with me.
Apart from nostalgia, which is a bastard.
These photos are of my room’s walls which I’ve stripped of all its skin. It's pained me.
A few pangs of sadness are hitting me right now for leaving certain people here, but I feel optimistic too.
So here’s a track that will make you want to leave everything and go pick fruit in the fields somewhere, one day settling down with a pretty girl who will give you five young children, growing up in the cedar house their daddy built with his bare and bloodied hands and years later will burn down in a drunken stupor.
The future’s bright, yo.
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