Twenty-seven years ago today, my family saw its first Australian sunset.
My mother is on holiday in Malaysia right now. My dad, what remains of him, in an urn at Karrakatta Cemetery. If it hadn’t been for my parents wanting more for their family, we would probably still be in Malaysia. The air felt so dry that day we arrived, compared to the humidity of the tropics we’d just left behind. I’m spoilt for sunsets these days. I don’t remember ever seeing so many when I lived in London.
Funny how thoughts like these just park themselves in the head, in no particular order.