As we ascended, the window to my right soon became filled with an awe-inspiring view of the city, the harbour, the bridge, the opera house. But the view soon gave way, flickering back and forth as we raced into and out of clearings in the clouds. I tried with everything in me to hold onto that view, tried to hold onto my life there, tried desperately to find a semblance of solid ground to stand on and to suddenly not be on the plane which would take me further and further away for the next 16 hours.

But I failed. All I could do was watch and hope for the short glimpses that would soon end, turned fully around in my seat so I could watch it for as long as I could, until I could no longer see those fantastic cliffs marking the edge of a country which I had learned to call home.

I left an active life for a sedentary one, exchanging winter for summer once again. Days spent sunning and reading, nights spent dreaming of Oz.