There is an eerie silence in the inner North of Melbourne. It is broken by the occasional car and music drifting in from one of the neighbours. Having just moved in again, I have no idea who they are. Something to be rectified soon.

I am halfway through The Alchemist and it strikes me that the journey that we take teaches us so much. A lesson for these times. Will we come out of this proud of ourselves, the way we behaved and with our integrity and dignity intact?

Today I opened up a photograph album, yes the old fashioned kind. It is filled with photos from the late ’80’s (including the huge hair) of a trip to Greece. I smiled as I remembered a trip to Paros with a girlfriend, an impromptu gathering with friends at home and a surprise farewell party the night I was leaving thrown by a friend of a close friend. It was 1987.

Little did I know then that 32 years later, the same close friend would be my rock on an emergency trip to Greece after my mother had a serious fall and was hospitalised.
I could not have coped with everything without her. Here we are in 1987.

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