these are the port hills just outside my hometown. i sat sheltered by a rock below the abandoned road: there is only so far you can drive until warning signs and rocks stop your path. i sat looking at the city, the wind running up the slopes, the golden ripples of the tussock like a lion’s mane. i used to feel like there was permanence but yesterday’s earthquakes showed me differently (and at only 5.8 compared to the 7.2s this city has experienced). as a person very attached to objects and the associated memories, this homecoming has taught me that home is about the people. nothing is shakeable about their love. (please excuse the sentimentality)
