"When I was seven years old I left Tasmania for the first time. I didn’t go so far, only to the mainland, but just putting some distance between myself and my home was enough to open up opportunities and possibilities. Something existed in that ethereal space, it seemed. I came home and crouched on my hands and knees with an atlas spread in front of me. So, the world was a patchy quilt of pastel colours, with sacred words printed all over it. I read these place-names out loud, like they were the names of saints: Douala. Omsk. Valparaíso."Although travelling has been a part of the rhythm of my life as an adult, it hasn't been an option for me this year. From this stationary train in Tasmania, I contemplate movement and the world.