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“We have let the wanderlust run rampant through our lives, our minds and our hearts, tearing through us like some sort of natural disaster to which we can’t escape, and now the only place that feels like home is the road.” - Nirrimi Firebrace We feel the warm summers air and look up at the safe haven of skyscrapers which surround us. One moment the sky is bright and the next, it has broken open. Heavy rain splatters on the hot, dry concrete and soaks our clothes but we don't run for shelter. Instead we breath in the new air and dance through the moment, oblivious to the judgemental stares of others. We are runaways finding our freedom, two girls discovering the secrets of life. As we walk down the busy city streets to the bus stop, we challenge each other to see the beauty in the discarded and dirty objects that litter this busy city. The flickering orange glow of a dropped cigarette as its fire fizzles out in the rain; the metallic, emerald that peaks out from behind the grey feathers of the rats of the sky; the last glimmer of red as the traffic lights change to green and the cars rush past in a blur of blue light. A man sits with his dog on a busy street corner, barely protected by the rain or the rushed footsteps of passers by. He begs for the spare change that will enable him to pull the fragments of his broken life back together and smiles appreciatively when we drop the few coins we have spare and wish him good luck as we embark upon our own journey. We rely on the world around to guide us to where we need to go, the beeping of the ‘bus stopping’ sign and the conversations of random strangers almost becomes a comfort when our own next stop is unknown. When we step off the bus, I lift my bag to prevent it getting swallowed by the now flooded curb. We make our way to the near by stairs and then to the train station below. Watching as the trains rush past us into the never-ending tunnel ahead until one finally comes to a halt in front of us. The metallic doors shudder open and throngs of people hurry off. Business men and women push through the crowds in their crisp, clean suits, briefcases in hand, rushing to make it to their meetings; tourists peer into the station, eyes filed with bewilderment and questions, wondering if they're in the right place and where to go from here; mothers huddle their children together, worried eyes darting around and concerned voices warning them of the dark abyss that separates the children from the safety of the platform. I watch as this pattern is repeated every few metres at every door and I wonder about the lives these people must lead; the experiences that have brought them to this moment in time and the futures that await them in this busy city. I recall moments in my own life, the things that brought me here. It was the feeling of being stuck, of not moving and feeling the need to run, to explore and to discover the world without being tied down. It was the idea that we could rediscover the magic in everything that we saw when we were young, before the worries of life stole it away. My sisters voice pulls me back to the present, she pulls my arm toward the train. As we cross the yellow safety line, we embark upon our own future, unaware of where we’re going or the experiences we will have that will ultimately shape our lives forever.