Crossings

During a month-long camping trip in Australia, my husband and I came down with terrible chest colds. He had undiagnosed osteoporosis, and the constant coughing caused a spinal fracture that left him confined to our lodging in Melbourne during our final week. Wandering the city on my own, I noticed the bike-lane and pedestrian symbols—images so common I usually overlook them.

In Melbourne, the layers of fresh paint over older markings didn’t line up; the older figures were stretched, warped, not quite erased. I felt a bit that way myself—flattened and shifted. Australia was familiar in so many ways, yet subtly distorted, and being sick so far from home made everything feel just slightly out of register.