318/365

Lisa McCune thinks my bike is beautiful.

264/365

My lovely friend Karls, who suggested that an hour and a half long commute (which my youngest brother had been doing up until recently) could be translated into a novel a week.

Bless her for her Pollyanna spirit!

174/365

The exquisite sadness of sitting on a train with your head resting against the window, watching rain drops trickle down the other side of the glass, while listening to Joan as Police Woman singing "To Be Lonely".

165/365

Just making the 12.38am train back to Glen Waverley...

144/365

That strangely sad/good melancholy feeling you get when on a long journey back to the city after spending a week in a lush green place.

127/365

Driving. It's such a luxury for me now, to get in a car and drive wherever I want, whenever I want (traffic permitting), in my own little bubble.

I do wish Melbourne had better public transport. I probably will end up purchasing a car at some point; but for now, I'm enjoying the luxury of the odd drive in my mum's snazzy little Mazda.