I normally wake up about ten to six (5:50 always looks much earlier when written down). My first glimpse of Sydney is out over the Spit Bridge. The traffic rolls down the hill from Seaforth, flutters across the bridge and then grinds its way up the hill. Having busied myself with being a husband and a father for an hour or more. I manage to lock myself into a sweet little musical coccoon, just me and my i-pod.
The tunes tumble, rumble, jolt, shoot, mumble and fizz out of the speakers, tunes that bring forth sharp stabs of nostalgia, sweet shivers of delight or frequent bemused looks. The music is my soundtrack as I take as many backroads as I could possibly desire. The aim is to keep moving, however far away from my ultimate destination the moving traffic takes me.
Mosman, Cremorne and Neutral Bay slide by in a roadmix of folk, jazz, punk and reggae. It's my life. A world full of music and traffic...
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