Newcastle. Surprisingly cold fogged morning wandering one of those crisp green regional campuses that are all space and tree and give the impression of time, space, even care. The antithesis of home. Except you know somewhere and really it is not.
Leaving airport in the hire car. Trying to get GPS happening. Clean fake new car perfume rising, Sydney stop start corner trying to read directions. Childhood car sickness announces itself to my gut with alacrity.
I got to use “narratological colonialism” in an answer to a question.