The sea was calm, the sky spotless, and a light breeze played around like it had nowhere in particular to be. Then a boat caught the wind, its sail filled, it leaned slightly, and began to move. Just like that.
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The Story Bridge glows over the Brisbane River — the Brown Snake — on a still evening under a full moon. Some nights, the river feels less like water and more like time itself, quietly flowing past the city it has seen grow, falter, and rise again. →

Between the big blue sky and the brown river, I met Joseph — a deckhand who turned routine into rhythm, and work into quiet joy. Some people do their jobs. Others inhabit them. →

The Second Story requires deeper listening and more courage—but it reveals where change is truly needed. →

Walking through Brisbane, I saw something simple but powerful. Storefronts, still under construction, covered in bright art. Not just a splash of colour. Thoughtful, intentional design. It changed the whole street. Made it feel alive. Inviting. “But isn’t that fake?” If a store isn’t ready, shouldn’t it show its real state? The half-built shelves, the →

Kerala paratha? A flashback to my early professional life—years I could have spent differently. Filter coffee? That’s Mum. The smell of bread? Raja Barley, a bakery in Madurai. Crabs? Pier 39, San Francisco. Churros? San Gines in Madrid. Crisp dosa? Aiyappas in Matunga. Black coffee? I’m in Brisbane. Toast? Singapore. Kulcha? Amritsar. Pomfret? Calicut. Salads? →

Every time I have stood in the queue of a land where I clearly am ‘foreign’ irrespective of the passport I hold, I learn something new. Especially so, when am not peering into my phone or consumed by the desire to see more. →

To look into the mirror and to look beyond unkempt hair and peruse the kerfuffle of memories, hopes, aspirations and emotions kept locked away is a good idea →

1wantchange: Fortitude Valley, Brisbane, QLD, Australia →