People keep asking me if I'm doing something special on my last day in Perth. I wish I could give them some whimsical answer full of meaningful locations and a schedule of how I plan to fit it into the day. But the truth is, the more I think about how to savour each hour the more real this all becomes... So I've just got to get on with it.
I'm currently laying in bed. My room is so bare, I've taken down all my photos and my cupboards are empty. It still feels like my room, but there's something missing and I can't put my finger on it.
Somebody near by is using a chainsaw, or some kid of noise making equipment and an alarm has just started going off across the street (told you, nothing meaningful or metaphorical on the cards today)... Here I lay... Looking at my window, the curtains generally floating with the breeze. Cosy and warm in my bed. The bed I will not wake up in for another two years at least. It's so hard to think about, the time. It seems so long, two years, it seems like a very very long time. But I know this will still all be here when I get back... Which is even harder to think about. This bed, those curtains, this room. It will all sit here quietly waiting for me to come home.
I didn't plan on laying in bed until twelve o'clock... It's not like I have nothing to do. I'm just resisting the reality of what follows... Last breakfast at home, last sunset, last dinner, last shower, last look.
Suppose there's no denying it. Time to get on with the day... The last day.
I'm currently laying in bed. My room is so bare, I've taken down all my photos and my cupboards are empty. It still feels like my room, but there's something missing and I can't put my finger on it.
Somebody near by is using a chainsaw, or some kid of noise making equipment and an alarm has just started going off across the street (told you, nothing meaningful or metaphorical on the cards today)... Here I lay... Looking at my window, the curtains generally floating with the breeze. Cosy and warm in my bed. The bed I will not wake up in for another two years at least. It's so hard to think about, the time. It seems so long, two years, it seems like a very very long time. But I know this will still all be here when I get back... Which is even harder to think about. This bed, those curtains, this room. It will all sit here quietly waiting for me to come home.
I didn't plan on laying in bed until twelve o'clock... It's not like I have nothing to do. I'm just resisting the reality of what follows... Last breakfast at home, last sunset, last dinner, last shower, last look.
Suppose there's no denying it. Time to get on with the day... The last day.
Xxo