A Fat Purple Fig

Easter Sunday brings a heavy hangover and, mercifully, a late barbeque. Our driver is cooler than us, and mans the stick shift like a weapon. As we tear down Southampton’s streets, I try to pinpoint the key differences between the suburbs here and those at home, and particularly those in the inner west of Sydney, where there is a multitude of terraces and space is at a premium. I am familiar with the narrow streets and limited parking, and the compact rooms and squares of outdoor space. It is different here though. We may have more vegetation, and they may have more exposed brick, but it’s hard to say.