I was sifting through a whole heap of digital photos the other day - as you do on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I came across a picture I took while I was working in East Perth. It was the view outside my office window. It was what I saw every single bloody day, as I lifted my eyes 5 cms above and beyond my monitor.

I remember thinking, Pfft whatever… there’s no point oohing and aahing over the view and wishing I was outside. I’m at WORK. And I’ll be stuck in here for another 8 hours goddamnit.

Sheesh. Talk about being a grumpy, cynical, spoilt brat. So today I took my son for a walk to visit my old work place. For a little landscape appreciation, of course. My old work gang isn’t there anymore. But the view was still the same.

And as I walked over the boardwalk, across the bridge, in front of the squeaky clean facades of modern day inner city living… I suddenly remembered why the place didn’t sit well with me.

It was all so beautiful. But it was all so fake. So immaculate and perfect. It oozed a mocking unattainable wealth with a mocking unattainable lifestyle to match. It’s like the way those fashion magazines feature this months’s essential winter jacket for only $3,200. It just makes me roll my eyes.

Then again having said that, if anyone offered me a free penthouse villa over-looking the inlet, I’d snatch it up in a snap.

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