the landscapes of childhood
Jan. 9th, 2007 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolorosa_12Well, life is not as bad as it was last week, but it's still not great. Not quite at the level of sunshine and butterflies, anyway. Work goes on, and every hour of every day I'm looking at the clock. Even my lunch break makes me nervous, because the Canberra Times are in the social black hole known as Fyshwick, and there's nowhere to go...NOOOOO!!!!!! I can't leave!!!! So I have to sit in the office tea room, worrying that everyone's watching to see how long I'm taking for lunch.
Canberra's kind of depressing at the moment, dry as the land of the dead in the Earthsea Quartet (hey, humour my random literary allusions!) and blanketed with smoke from the Victorian bushfires. And no-one's here - the inner south's slowly dying. Already they've closed down Griffith Library (where, nerd that I was, I spent way too much of my childhood) and apparently Narrabundah Primary as well. No-one's on the street, they've all packed up and headed south to the coast.
Just another demonstration of my belief that home is an age, not a place, and, once left, can never be returned to.
Canberra's kind of depressing at the moment, dry as the land of the dead in the Earthsea Quartet (hey, humour my random literary allusions!) and blanketed with smoke from the Victorian bushfires. And no-one's here - the inner south's slowly dying. Already they've closed down Griffith Library (where, nerd that I was, I spent way too much of my childhood) and apparently Narrabundah Primary as well. No-one's on the street, they've all packed up and headed south to the coast.
Just another demonstration of my belief that home is an age, not a place, and, once left, can never be returned to.
