Big City, Big Heart

Before I left home, I had to have an x-ray. I have a crick in between my ribs, on my left side. Every time I breathe I feel it there. All I wanted was for it to crack, the same way my spine does when I anchor myself on a doorframe and twist. I had to wear a gown and hug myself. Stare at the wall. Listen for the click. My doctor looks younger than he is, and bulk bills me no matter how many times I turn up in his office with questions. He tells me all my bones are where they should be, just one of those things—sit up straight, do some jumping jacks, maybe it will go away—and in passing notes the size of my heart. Small, he says. That’s a good thing.

This is all in an afternoon. The next time I go to the doctors it’s the width of the country away on Hercules St, which I walk down most days. Every time I pass the bakery right before the traffic lights, I look to my left and spot the donut with pink icing that’s always there, wondering when I’ll finally buy it and why. I’m always walking at a pace by then. No time for donuts. A few steps more and I pass a shop with fresh seafood, another with what I assume is duck hanging in the window. Let’s pretend it’s a weekend. I think I like myself better on weekends, when I belong to myself and not the world. I get to leave my street and forget that I’m seen, stuck in my own loop of thoughts instead: choruses, grocery lists, arguments. Mornings are spent with Nat Geo or the radio, a healthy dose of pretention after sunrise. I don’t have to pay attention to the headlines or Twitter. I get to walk down Hercules St, and from there I can go anywhere I like.

Read the full essay on Into the Fold

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Hello Whoever You Are

All The Best episode #1807 Self-Preservation

In 1995, Greg Wilkinson wrote a letter to the future and buried it in a wall. At the time of writing, Paul Keating was Prime Minister and the internet was just getting started. Greg expected the letter to stay hidden for 60 years. He couldn’t have predicted what happened when the letter resurfaced.

With help from Laura Brierley Newton and Selena Shannon

Music: ‘Golden Hours’ by Brian Eno, ‘Sad Marimba Planet’ by Lee Rosevere, ‘How I Used To See The Stars’ by Lee Rosevere, ‘A Storm At Eilean More’ by Jon Luc Hefferman