It was a ridiculous journey that I took. I was filled with optimism, hope and sadness as I boarded the plane back home, back to London after 359 days of living in Melbourne.
I hadn’t wanted to leave; that wasn’t a secret. But I was beholden to the laws of the land and the rules of my Working Holiday visa — no stay past 12 months, not without a work visa. So I made plans and eventually sat on a plane home, vowing to return to Australia as soon as possible, as soon as my visa went through, as soon as fate would allow. As it happened, fate had other plans, which was nothing new for fate I suppose.
Read the full piece on Medium here.
Image credit: london by Husein Aziz from the Noun Project