I've been struggling to give the word 'home' a proper meaning that sits well in my body. Since the move to Melbourne, I have written and I admit, ranted, about how new cafes, beaches and a new city do not make a home. Well, so
I’m sitting in my living room, 53 days into this new home. I’ve been thinking a lot about transitions, finding my place and some form of familiarity in this city.
Home still somewhat doesn’t feel like home even though I’ve laid in the same bed, tucked
I hate to be the bearer of bad news but when the clock strikes midnight, nothing will change. You will not lose your glass slippers (or you may depending on how drunk you get), your Uber will not transform into a carriage, there will be