I am sorry for not having written in so long.

I have been writing, just not to you dear reader, and not really for myself either.

I found the strength and courage to write about the situation in Hong Kong and how it affects Australians a while back, but otherwise I have been hammering out words and thoughts for work.

Amidst all of the appointments and the surgery, I ended up losing my beloved camera, which felt like a suckerpunch after everything I had already been through.

On weekends, my attention turned to just try to remember to enjoy the little things resting at home, and to not be so harsh on myself. I have been a ball of self-pity, and probably in a rut of exhaustion and frustration, but I think that is slowly changing.

Michelle and I have also been hitting the road, probably too much. Five trips over three months makes the mind fuzzy. I think we need to sleep for a whole month in a self-contained pod to recover.

There have been moments of joy, plenty of them, I promise.

Perhaps I haven't prioritised those thoughts in my mind, but I also think it would be dishonest to ignore the difficulties.

A moment which stood out was just before I lost my camera when I walked past two curious, neighbourly cats who took an interest in me taking photos. They probably felt intimidated as they probably assumed I was an unusually large, odd-shaped, un-furry cat intruding on their territory; but I ended up waltzing around with them on the ground for a good 15 minutes, before their owner came out and started chatting to me.

I had taken the day off work, and I had absolutely no plans. I probably could have ended up playing with them all day. I think I miss these spontaneously, whimsical but ultimately pointless moments.

When I grow old I will probably still remember these cats so fondly, and tell everybody how when I lived in Brunswick that I would play with them even though I have only walked past them twice.