back from byron bay i gaze at the glorious winter sun as it passes through the leaves and onto my tiny lawn. bird sing out welcoming songs, the koo and kaw of the feathered beasts, colours flash and insect sing. 
we drove like madmen, it's pretty much a straight stretch at 130, although there are numerous slow areas where roads are being widened. the further north the warmer, the more space and consequently the more relaxed i feel. the water is still, ocean currents retreat as the tide is pulled by the moon. i see strange patterns upon the sands, pass strange small towns and villages, pass landmarks and stop for coffee. i piss in side streets and laneways of remote beautiful places where no one passes, no people in sight, the sky stretches out, and as evening comes the universe swallows me up in stars. 
i find my place, uphill the arts factory, a zen like spa retreat, azabu. the rom is perfect as is the spa. and i sleep like the lord returned from the hunt. 
morning light filters through tall trees as i read my book in the peace, on the balcony.
byron is a resort town, once a place of healing, now filled up with backpackers and hippies, cashed up city executives and movie stars. it's beautiful but also expensive, it's magickal in the same way avalon once was and i am constantly reminded of this connection. shops are resort shops, with resort prices, the streets are packed with festival goers, the market throng with good food and produce. 
i do my business and head home back through the night. azabu, perfect place to spend a night.