THE PURPLE DECADES


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Today I'm flying back to Melbourne, and leaving the farm mentally kicking and screaming. It's been such a nice stay, which makes it doubly hard to leave my family and head back to the cold city. 
But, you can't sit in front of the fire and drink spiced rum and eat cake all day. Nor can you spend weeks on end wandering through succulent gardens and across paddocks and along near-deserted beaches. Or hours walking along country roads and collecting antiques and bones and feathers.
Or... maybe my parents are on to something. 

I always leave the farm wandering why I live in a city, but I guess there are reasons. 
I'll just have to think about it.