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Traveling is like nothing else in life. You can go as far to say it's like a box of chocolates or that sort of jazz but I don't think that cuts it. I recently returned home from Indo, which was incredible, but like many trips you come home with little plastic memory cards full of images that need to be sorted. The hardest part is taking numerous shots of the same thing, except in one frame a hand is lifted slightly higher into the air then the others which creates a different meaning altogether. You tell me which one should get the apple bin and which one gets to keep its data stacked neatly together to create a visual photograph.

For now the Indo stuff will wait a little longer on the green mile and instead this moment was the afternoon of my return. I rolled on four wheels down to Byron to see my brothers from different paired lovers and stood on the beach trying to adjust to the cold. After a quick moment I had to come to terms with the fact that they were to far away to know which clowns they were, compared to neighbouring paddlers. I saw these two fishermen doing their thing whilst a vortex above them opened up.

This was for some reason a very nice moment to me.