After a four hour bus ride I’m back in Boston for the weekend. This time I’m staying with a friend’s sister out in the suburbs. Where people own homes with front yards, fences and driveways with mini-vans. Unlike a lot of Sydney suburbs though all the houses look the same, just varying colour schemes. It’s close to midnight and not a car is moving on these streets. I always have this unsettled feeling in the suburbs that I can’t describe. Is it the space, the quiet or the pace? Or is it just a reminder of all the things I ran away from?