The gum trees on Loftus were stark white against the stormy western sky and Perth glowered at me in a tired, still morning. I slept at the new place for the first time last night, and worked through a few more layers of filth and packing boxes. It is shaping up, but it's a compromise. I made the bed and showered and drifted off to sleep to Philip Adams' voice, soothing and full of benevolence. I can't bear silence. This morning, as mornings always are, was better and I sat with my mug of Paul on the balcony and tried to stay positive. But it's hard and my heart is broken. When we spoke yesterday night the distance between us was not just the 1200km's but an increasingly un-crossable gulf opening up. I bought a doona and pillows and toilet brush and cutlery and made carrot and coriander soup, which I was then too tired to eat but it will be great for dinner today. The red fingernails at least would not take much explaining today. So, to new beginnings. New neighbourhood, new Perth resident. Nestled again in the crook of my city's arm. Here's to hope!