Yesterday I got talking with another visitor about going back to childhood places and experiencing flashbacks.
Since arriving in Hobart I've remembered more of the times when I visited my best friend who moved here at the start of high school, than the three years I lived here while I went to art school. And none more so than when we went up mount Wellington.
A rush of images - a hot pink snowsuit, collecting snow for the bonnet and throwing heaped melting snow at Jane and Travis before suddenly falling through the powder layer across the rocks.
And then the visitor tells me he is off to namibia next month to film mad max 4. He was making a point about feeling nostalgic but recognizing that if you stayed you would never achieve all that you do after you leave.