Something that always struck me about the city is the skies. They’re big skies. I live in Summer Hill and the skies in the inner west are particularly big. They have these amazing oranges and purples. They’re kind of like paintings. I find them calming and sort of inspiring… they allow reflection.
I’ve lived away from Sydney. I loved living away, but now that I’m back I feel very comfortable. At the moment I’ve fractured my wrist and so I’m wearing a cast. I love to swim in the beach and I can’t do that at the moment. I’ve tied a plastic bag around it and gone in to my waist. It’s not the same. So the smell of Sydney for me at the moment is a mix of a putrid, repulsive broken arm smell and the smell of those big skies.
sweat, feet, dead skin, frangipani, grass, rain on hot concrete