Dear Melbourne

Oh Melbourne, how great thou art! Yes you, and your art. From your vivid graffiti to the morning aroma of your cafés–you’re a delight to all my senses. From your crisp afternoon breeze, the approaching sound of your trams, to the fusion of cuisines along your narrow lanes–you have spoiled me like a prodigal daughter who ran away from the true meaning of appreciation. What was it exactly that made me felt so close to you?


Where to start? The Victorian touch of your architecture and its juxtaposition with the modern taste of this generation?



Your generosity to allow your public spaces be used as a medium of artistic expression?



Perhaps, your admirable sensitivity to our environment?



Your witty humour?

Melbourne-17Or just that melancholic feeling from what you preserved from the past?


Melbourne-8 Melbourne-9

Whatever it was, dear Melbourne, it was great! I re-learned that appreciation does not come in big packages, as they say, not in bright lights and expensive shops of modern cities, but in smaller yet more meaningful things, like that freshly basked bagel I had at the Manchester Press, or the free tram ride around the city, even the old chap who served us hot chocolate with a smile. I already miss your little streets and their indie vibe. I already miss hanging out in your cafés just watching people pass by.

It was a brief encounter but definitely lasting. You are one of those few places I will keep remembering, thanking and promising to go back to.


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