This Is It

I'm in the country, this is the very last weekend. Mark and Luke go to Byron to live. This is it, the removalist trucks come on Wednesday. My two best friends. I was there when we bought Bolago. It's twenty years later, where did the time go?

That's it. Done. Shit! Nothing lasts forever, I know that. But?

Over. Wow.

Sad Face. It's a huge part of my life. What am I going to do now on the weekends? No, seriously, I'm going to feel claustrophobic stuck in the inner burbs.

I only have Melbourne now. No more country residence. Will I get bored with that? Will I feel confined? In these years of global warming, do I want to live cramped by the cities heat? Trampled by the ever increasing tourists who are settling in Fitzroy. Being trampled? Sweating in heated boxes. No matter how hot the day, it always cools down in the country.

One stop out of Melbourne, with land of it's own, just enough to obscure any neighbours. I always thought a dirt road sounded romantic. Some where with a deck and huge windows to let in swathes of light. Huge panes of glass behind which to eat your breakfast in the sparkling morning. With views, long sweeping views.