Okay. The signs are clear.
Milk crates have been quietly collected from all around the city. The old vacant record store has been filled with makeshift curtains and second-hand couches and surprisingly high-end museum signage. The road closure permissions have been granted, though it was a no on the controlled fire. Theatre groups dot the city, sneaking in rehearsals in locations that were never intended to host theatre. 2 cubic meters of dirt are being moved to the top of a carpark, the better to be danced atop. NickMc is playing 90s rap and pop as George, working with nothing, makes and does everything that anyone could ever need ever. I just got sent a runsheet informing me that the audience participation event on the merry-go-round is now a ritualized rumination on Death. Rooms are being built within rooms that have been built within rooms.
The weather is clearing up.
Five days with my favorite people doing the most ill-advised, most worthwhile things.
Google ‘You Are Here Canberra’ if you want facts. This post is about love.