Gold Coast. I want to feel the sand and surf before I die.
Brisbane. The Brisbane River snaking through the city leaves the marks of flood waters on the stone foundations of downtown high-rises.
An Aboriginal street performer plays a didgeridoo concert for some coins; the deep, rich, mysterious, mournful sound vibrating my bones. After playing, he tells us the story of how his father, European, fell in love with his Aboriginal mother deep in the bush.
Driving away, a Kangaroo stands and stares at us, watching us go with sad eyes. Why are you leaving?
From Kangaroo Point, the spectacular setting sun gives way, too soon, to the sparkling stars of the Southern Cross. I’m far from home and longing to see my family.
The good news, for me, is that spending such a short time down under means that I will go back. I must.