Regardless of where I exist in the world, for how many years I live in a place, where I pay rent, drink coffee, do laundry, cook grand (or very cheap) meals, Brisbane will always be my home. At the beginning of the year, I was part of an exhibition hosted by two close friends - 'Love Letters to Brisbane'. It had been tradition for one of the curators (Lou), to write a love letter of sorts to her city every year, and this year, part of the love letter included works of art by local artists, music, mulled wine, and dim lighting in a warehouse space nestled in the heart of the city.
Mine was a bit more tangible, and written with old ink on a typewriter gifted to me by my mother. This is the letter I wrote to my city.