"the tragedy of these people was that nothing in their lives had really bitten deep at all..." -Last Tycoon, F. Scott Fitzgerald

No, this is not at all a statement about the family I'm living with.

It just blows my mind that there are people out here, in a vast, dangerous, entrancing, gorgeous, exhilarating country such as Australia, and they have no idea that they are blessed. It completely escapes them that they are in the midst of an adventure, whether they're here to work, travel or remember. Whether they saved for three years to get here or meant to book a ticket to Melbourne, Florida and ended up in this red-brick oven. At every moment there is a choice to be free, even if chained to obligation. These children are half a WORLD away from everything they have grown amongst and into. As if possessing the particular demands of an orchid they refuse to bloom in unfamiliar territory.

Even though we're in a young country, you can feel the ancient past of the eucalypt trees, dusty soil, coral coast and rainbowed stones. The land should belong to the first people who existed here, in spirit before body. They call the moment in history before we needed bodies or farms or words The Dreamtime. If you want to believe, it's possible that this is all still a dream. Maybe we are living in a story, and when we close the book the Europeans will still only be socializing and lunching and parading in Europe. Maybe the bushwalkers are still the only ones on this continent, souls taking only what they need from this land. Looking up, into the stars that inspired the origin of questions, it seems natural to wonder.

In spite of all the negativity from fellow travellers, I feel like I'm sending roots through this ground, through the centre of the earth. When I come home I want to be international in a non-starlet sense. I want to grow anywhere.