Riding home down cold, fog-filled Melbourne roads, I am awed by a strange sense of calm. Somehow, the mist blocks sound so my engine, the asphalt, the crunch of cars on gravel is swallowed by the night.
Hammy’s farewell party was ace as expected, filled with hip-hop and eighties get-down trash tracks. Enjoyed chatting with Jose from MSF about love and hope and social justice; meeting Francisco from Brazil and trying to convince him that the world was still worth fighting for and discussing Morales nationalisation of the Bolivian oilfields and its effect on Brazil; and a nice surprise, Dale from Za Bar who we met the night of thorfinn’s buck’s night. Danced. Laughed. Drank red wine and ate good cheese. Lived.