I'm moving through the landscape.
Sun, sun, here we come.
I don't know who sings it but I need some of those rays.
The last few nights sleeping out of my car in May, the end of summer, was becoming chilly.
I'm homeless. And I'm fed up.
Nothing is happening.
Nothing will happen.
Eventually I'll be on the streets with a bag.
I've done that before.
Now that's real tramp material.
And trust me, it wasn't pretty.
It never is.
Pity the homeless.
Everyone deserves a roof over their head.
We live in one of the most wealthiest countries in the western world, yet can't accomodate our citizens.
All the public housing go towards the immigrants.
Not for Australians.
We are the cursed.
Cursed.
No one cares about us.
There's no money in helping Australians.
It's all about the immigrants.
Show your hospitality.
Make yourself feel good.
So I had to make a move.
And move I did.
Heading Port Headland way. Before that, Karratha.
Not what I expected.
Not at all.
