A little bit blessed

Sometimes I hate that the place I lay my head is a few feet away from the place I hone my craft, but other days, usually just after I brew some fresh coffee, wave to my neighbour through the kitchen window, close the door, and pull my chair in, I adore that I have the opportunity to cut a heartbreaking documentary in nothing but a g-string.

The Edit



It matters not where you going
Or where you have been
She treats you like family
Intention unseen

Whether strolling the city
Or on a couch in a burb
She shows you the stars
While you sit on the curb

City of Melbourne


Train stations

A wise man once said to me that Melbourne is like a train station: it’s a place you go when you are going somewhere else. And while I think he was right, perhaps everywhere is slowly becoming somewhere on a stop to somewhere different. That here is just another roadside diner on the information superhighway. Which isn’t a terrible thing at all. And at least you can’t complain about the coffee.

On her way home