Over the past eight months I have strewn myself all over the cities of Europe. Traces of my fragrance lingers amongst the cracks of the pavement. My skin pressed time and time again into the buildings while my briefest dimmest impression hovers like a fuzzy ghost in a foreign mind or two.

My mark is deeper in the streets of Sydney. I have, after all, dedicated a lifetime there. Following high school I uprooted from the leafy suburbs to begin my love affair with urban spaces, pounding concrete with well worn sneakers, making friends, losing lovers, always feeding off the buzz of this city.

But it has been eight months since I have written any stories onto these streets, and I return to be overwhelmed by the waves of deja vu each shop, street corner, club and cafe triggers. A forgotten me comes harking back and I feel estranged and alienated from it all. I recognise how sexy and stunning this city is, so liveable, safe, small, sunnny (sort of) ssssssssssSydney… but the babe’s not mine. I let her go somewhere along the line.

And yet – yet I am so happy to be here!

Life in London is lonely and intense. I have made a good friend or two, but four months of friendship making hardly equates to the lifetime I have made in Sydney. These last few days back has been filled with the one thing I’ve really missed while being away – people. I’ve done so much “hanging out” here, and with people who fit me like a glove, all in the drowsy drone of the cicada’s chirrup…life here is and always has been one big holiday.

I am only back for a little while to go to a wedding (the most common reason why Aussies interrupt their overseas stay). Then return to grey skied Europe, replacing the chilled out blondeness of Oz for the scratched over, rip it up then burn it down existence in London, where things are spinning rather than sunbaking, life is bigger, faster, harder, and every darkest, wildest inclination is yours for the taking.

I can already feel myself slipping happily back into the normality and comfort here. Despite the fact that I now recognise Sydney as the trashy and flashy vacuous teenager that it is, and I wonder if it suits, is it me?, possibly was never me, the people are enough and remembering how much I’ve missed these dear dear wonderful friends and family I know so well…it will be hard to leave them again.