May 24, 2011 § 3 Comments

It is this time, when my hands get cold and icy riding home through the Melbourne streets, that I think of Hobart, my home for 6 years. Most of all, I miss the mountain view hovering over the town. On cold days like this it might reveal itself bit by bit behind its blanket of mist, undressing and redressing, the clouds washing over from the west. The vertical dolerite organ pipes fronting the town between the wet sclerophyll and sub-alpine Eucalyptus the birthmark of Hobart to me.  I miss the horizons lost in Melbourne’s sprawl. The views beyond the houses to the wild rugged and lost landscapes. The easy escape out of town, up a mountain path or to a lost beach. The constant reminder of breathing and living nature, its quiet presence behind all our lives. I miss the empty detail.


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