And out into 2015 we begin. 
In Southbank. Where we started, actually.
It’s been 2.5 years since the caravan had it’s first outing.
I am no longer 28 actually.
But I like that this work has frozen me and this moment in time.

And it still resonates.
Hard.
Tears were plentiful this weekend.
“I haven’t been to that part of myself for years”
Eyes searching.
Hearts crunching.

Sitting across from a Rhino on Saturday.
Along the river on Sunday.
A three year old runs around the caravan two, three times.
While his dad tries to imagine him at age 23.
Some stumble across us.
Few are brave.

We have a little home next to us.
These little houses spread across Melbourne remind us of Drop #1. That was even longer ago…

It’s the slowness we see.
The conversations.
The friends that stop.
The parents.
The children.
The odd person alone.

“Will the caravan exist in 20 years?” an 8 year old who would be 28  asked.

We hope we are.
We hope indeed.

xx aMoment

you can catch us over the next couple of weekends at Summersalt Festival too.