Dawns over the Australian desert are made of fire, like a hellish landscape of incredible and distant beauty. Below, dark clouds like sponges soak up the last drops of night. From outside, the plane must look like an angel made of iron making its silent way somewhere important.
As I return to Australia after two weeks away it hits me again how remote and in many ways untouched this place is. It hits me how attached I am getting to it.
The last week in Hong Kong has been fabulous. Asia never fails to charm with its alien beauty, encompassing heat and engaging buzz. Hong Kong is the strange child of China, a world made of skyscrapers stolen from a jungle that still tries to prevail and that licks at the city with its disorderly green tongues. Eagles fly outside the window of my office on the 58th floor. I wonder if life will take us here.
The world is changing.
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