sitting on my neighbour’s fence was a strange, awkward sort of experience. i was very aware that i had crossed a boundary into a space that wasn’t my own. i slid on right at the very end, my shoulder grazing my own fence, as if the closeness was some sort of safety net.

i live on a main road, where cars rush by at 70km/hr. it’s 3:30pm and schoolkids from the high school nearby trickle out onto the path. amidst the rushing, homebound blue and white plaid sits me, alone on a brick fence. is it a weird sight for them, and for motorists passing by?

i don’t expect my street to look any different, but there is the strange sense of jarring. everything feels like it’s positioned a little too far to the right, and my own fence seems so far away. i feel like an intruder into a space that is not my own, imposing myself in the grounds of my neighbour’s tribe without their invitation. i don’t dare go beyond the boundary line and within, because despite the aged bricks and lush trees - this fence’s beauty does nothing to let me forget that it is not my own.

but juxtaposed against the unease is a sense of calm. how often do i just sit and observe? take the time to absorb something that should be so familiar and so normal and realise i’m looking at it in an entirely new light? it’s a refreshing experience, especially when the sky is so brilliantly blue.