I know, I know: a letter to Melbourne. But I promise this is not one of those letters. I'm not going to thank you for your "hidden laneways" or wax lyrical about your coffee culture. I don't really care about those things; all a laneway has ever done is got me lost or given me a convenient place to pee after leaving Cherry Bar.
Instead, I want to thank you not just for giving me somewhere to live when I finally left the town I spent the first 18 years of my life hating, or helping me to find my people and, in turn, myself during the years after that, but I also need to thank you for being the place I could return to when I was at my lowest, three years ago, once I had finally brought myself to admit that the biggest, brightest city in the world had turned me into the smallest, dullest version of myself.Read More