Since returning home I’ve felt an intermittent sense of boredom, restless and loneliness.

Friday night before a long weekend and I scrawl the net in search of a beach side oasis. No luck. Damn all the organised folk who book ahead.

I awake on Saturday morning to a sunny sky. I text a few people. They too have already made plans. Damn.

After a moment of self sympathy I decide a bit of Kesha time is actually probably a good thing right about now.

Since returning I’ve been torn with indecision. A few life changing decisions I can’t quite get clarity on.

A conversation with my father this week started with “well at your age”… as he reminded me that I was no longer 20. As if I needed reminding. And besides I completely disagree with him, my age is the perfect time to be taking risks.

I drive aimlessly blasting music that sounds how I feel. I find myself at Ponsonby central with a Mayan fire smoothie in hand and a piccolo in the other. Next thing I’m chatting to an elderly European man who’s selling me a cransky and Balkan relish.










Contented with my treats and buzzing market atmosphere I head to the beach.








With 4 books in tow I lay in the sand feeling my body soak up the relaxation. Crickets and birds chatter, boats hum and yet there is a stillness around me.

Life slips from mind, and I feel happy with today and the little things. My only regret is my severe lack of a bikini and water bottle.









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