How it feels to move away
Love grows in the (Red)fern
I moved to Sydney a week ago and I’m pretty sure my head only stopped whirling about half an hour ago.
I’m sitting outside in my quasi backyard, since concrete jungles don’t seem to think a little greenery is a priority, finally reflecting on the fresh new veneer my life has taken on. My new terrace house is the epitome of Sydney student housing, walls covered in chalk graffiti and paraphernalia of both the psychedelic and creative variety is scattered across most surfaces. Living with artists, stylists and film protégés has opened my eyes to the thriving culture of living in an iconic city. The yearning of self-expression doesn’t really exist here – everyone here seems to follow the advice of a wise man that goes by the name of Frank-N-Furter when he said: “don’t dream it, be it”.
And so, even though I’m still sitting in my old overalls and listening to Fleetwood Mac like I always do, I can sense a change in the air. After living in the glittering and chaotic Bangkok for 4 years and then having to return to my humble hometown of Brisbane, my hunger for excitement and creativity has been insatiable. I didn’t try enough, I felt too comfortable within my limits. My limits have been redefined and I honestly have this feeling that anything can happen here. I’ve already met a man who has a flock of pigeons as his only family, the lankiest of white guys who is obsessed with krumping, and a camera-grip working with Michael Fassbender who likes to spray-paint chairs gold in his spare time.
The game-changer that makes Sydney the artistic hotbed, the place to be, is the hub of outlets that allow you to explore the things you dream of doing. You can walk out your door tomorrow and there will be some free or cheap workshop or idea to get involved in. I decided yesterday that I wanted to be involved in a creative shoot, and now I am acting in a short film about a girl covered in light bulbs.
Creative aspirations aren’t hobbies or varied lifestyles amongst the more outlandish residents of Newtown – it’s an existence. I think, therefore I am.
Words and photos by Tallulah Goos-Roisom