The clouds are like shallow breaths and the sun rises in the east, I stayed up all night listening to jazz on the radio. I won’t go chasing history. On take-off and landing, leaving Queensland, I sat in between two men reading like I was the story and they were my bookends, some people make the most of long weekends. Onto the baked streets of the city in summer and the sand on the feet of beach fairys, I cool off in a melting ice popsicle tram. In a tin hat and corrugated iron skirt the city flirted