by Ellen

Petersham Baptist Church

Inside, rehearsing, looking at the words above the altar—crying through every song. We rehearse facing the back of the church now, and I only cry when we sing Prince.

Another time, sitting on the front steps in the middle of the night, because I can’t sleep and I don’t know where you are. The choir cat appears and sits with me for a while.  

Outside your apartment in Glebe

Taking photos of its shell, imaging all your trinkets haven’t been removed. There’s a collage of you in the window of The Spot next door. I gave it to them alongside the program for your memorial, which they watched on zoom.

I loved living round the corner from you. I moved in briefly when I needed a place to stay.  

“I don’t want to take over your living room.”

“Take my bed!! Take the whole apartment!!!!”

Sitting on the merch stand at Botany View Hotel

The last time I ended up on a merch stand like this was at Marcus’ show at the Red Rattler, with you of course. I feel like I was always with you.

The last time I was at Botany View Hotel was after the annual Wuthering Heights day in Sydney Park.

“I’m not sure if I’m going to go.”

“I think I’m going to!”

“Ok, I’m on my way.”

Sitting in Camperdown Park.

“Choir is so great because we have friends that we probably wouldn’t have met under any other circumstances.”

“Except I think we were always destined to be friends. You and I were always going to be friends.”