Sunday, 21 January 2018

stingray bay

all the footsteps on the cove were ours

Friday, 29 December 2017

forests are forever

great otway national park

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

a matter of love


Saturday, 25 March 2017

mind the gap

navigating youth
her mind: a map
without a legend

Sunday, 5 March 2017


my heart

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

the weird west

for a couple of weeks, i stayed in a house with mosquitos and sand flies on a small stretch of road along the west coast. there, i made jam with blackberries picked from bushes covered in spider nests, and took swims in a river that always tried to swallow me whole. i felt close to earth but far from the world. there was no internet, no phone reception, and the total population? seven.

coco is from south america on a working holiday. when she saw the scenery she fell in love, and didn't bother travelling further. her visa was expiring and she hadn't met anyone she could marry (not my words). one afternoon she made empanadas for everyone and left quietly after. strangely, a swedish girl moved in the very next day, and the population remained unchanged.

fox has a degree in graphic design or something similarly urban, but upon graduation packed her bags and found herself here. she drives six hours to attend the nearest church every sunday, and tells me there's no other place she'd rather be. 'er, how about closer to church?' i ask. no she's fine here, she says. she's very righteous and nice, but i don't believe her.

lex is 17, or maybe 18, and was adopted from russia as a baby. he came here to learn how to hunt in the forests. when i ask him what his biggest fear is, he shares 'becoming what my adoptive parents expect of me, a violent alcoholic like my biological father.' i didn't know how to respond, and mentioned something about being adopted too. when i left he gave me a bullet shell.

sandy herded cattle, and his wife tended to their garden. sandra (sandy's mum) ran a farm, and her husband tended to their cars. they owned all the property stretching from the hills to the sea and often held dinners for their friends who would drive hours to visit.

the place was beautiful but eerie, and there's not an overarching story here. i didn't make life long friends, and i felt excited to leave when the day came. it was just one of those weird scenarios that i walked in on and haven't shaken off.

Tuesday, 14 February 2017

Friday, 10 February 2017

missed connection

you: the plane

Monday, 6 February 2017

through aragon

for the first day of the year we were on the road, stopping in a town of few houses to eat our packed lunch in an empty park. everything was quiet and overcast. barcelona had been nothing but warm, no more than a couple of hours inland my bones felt raw.

when we did arrive in zaragoza (much later in the day). we hid in a tapas bar while we waited for our airbnb host. there are people who own eateries because they love it, and then there are people who download recipes from the internet and hang up an open sign because they need money. this place was the latter and it made me feel terrible, but for love or survival, gotta respect their hustle.

we saw the old town later at night. wow, i guess it's hard to explain, and i may have been under the influence of freezing temperatures, but things looked big and small at the same time, as though someone brought a toy town to life size.

there were several establishments with the name goya.

him: goya was born in a village close by
me: goya is a brand of canned foods in america
him: francisco goya
me: black beans, kidney beans, cannellini beans
him: he's a painter
me: adzuki beans, lentils
him: arrêt

we ate baked potatos with olives and called it an evening.

when you stop yourself from doing something you will think about it until it happens: and i woke up wanting churros. however! the churrerria i had seen last night on the way home was very closed at 8 am, but after a bit more wandering, we found a low key gem with people spilling out called 'la fama'. tip: order through the hole-in-the-wall outside. the dipping chocolate is questionable goop but no words are worthy to describe these churros, you know when food just moves you in a very emotional way?

*flicks tear from corner of eye*

Saturday, 4 February 2017


our airbnb was on the edge of town, where wild boars would wander onto the footpaths, and everyone in the neighbourhood owned at least one hunting dog. sometimes i wonder if i have ever been to a city more vibrant than barcelona (no). with the exception of driving (cars literally hit both vehicles in front and behind them to park), this place has everything a traveller could want (sorry for overcrowding your resources though barcelona). my two highlights of many (and apologies they are food related):

bar celoneta sangria bar: they serve alcohol free sangrias (thumbs up), but the food drew us back twice, including for a 9 course meal on new year's eve. the neighbourhood (la barceloneta) is crowded with holiday makers possibly all from marseille but give or take a few.

les escales: small cafe in the suburbs where i ate the best bread of my life. they served life changing hummus too. that being said i hadn't ate any fresh hummus for years, and the life change hasn't been big. change yes. big change no.