There's just been a shower. The previously scorching sky pulled over its clouds and dumped water on us. The humidity is at stuartion limit but thankfully it's relatively cool. The cling of the air once again brings forth my nostalgia as I revert to my past life in Sydney.
I feel like I know Sydeny better than I know any other city I've lived in. Well, perhaps I know Wellington better, in that I could probably drive everywhere - I don't know the roads in Sydney well enough for that - but I like Sydney better.
I'm sitting at Cafe Lounge nostalgising my memories of Sydney. I think about the age of the city, how it was once new and how the ancient cities of Europe carry so much history. Is Sydney but a nascent reflective city about to obtain its critical mass of narrative?
Perhaps one day in the far future, after some defined narrative-germination, my counterpart in Shenzhen - that new metropolis springing from a fishing village in ten years - will be sitting down in a similar but different cafe thinking about Sydney as I do about London now.
Today I've shopped Paddington and Oxford St. The shops have been empty, the assistants alert and attentive. I love it. It's almost worth paying the GST for this extra service. I'm still going to claim it back if I can though. Those $440 Diesel jeans put a severe dent in my credit card for sure.
Noel, who works at the Darlinghurst bookshop is frantic with Mardi Gras madness. He wishes me well but has a lot to prepare and finish. Cedric at Cafe Lounge stops to have a chat as I sip my ginger beer. The cold bottle sweats with the humidity, but the ubiquitous breeze in this part of town soothes many a shiny sun-screened brow.
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