Last night when I was walking I saw parrots and rosellas fly up as though the rains had refreshed them. Colourful against the flat grey sky.
I walked in the rain. I know this neighbourhood. I know the secret laneways. I see snails making their slow way across footpaths that are like freeways for them. I hear cockatoos that sound more like pteradactyls. Sometimes I wave at someone I know, or I over compensate for a co-walker who tries to ignore me.
I know the house where a mother found her son after he'd overdosed on heroin. Her garden is like no-one else's. An leafy, green and flower-laden oasis. A salute to her son.
And another home, palatial, where a two year old once tumbled from a second storey balcony.
These are true stories. Testament that everyone has their own private struggles.
Sometimes I manage to walk and just tune out altogether. It isn't often, but when I do, it repays in dividends.
Last night I listened to this. One of my favourites.
See those stripey socks? They make me walk faster.