I’m in the hostel common area and they’re all here. There’s the German solo traveller in sensible outdoor clothes; the bubbly Scandinavian girls who embarrass you with their perfect English (and French, Spanish, and already firm grasp of the language from whichever country you’re in); the perhaps unfairly labelled, perhaps not, weird older bloke who…
In Sydney suburbia, a friend and I stroll past a public rubbish bin. The three holes are clearly labelled for the thrower’s convenience: paper, recyclables and general waste. As she looms closer, my heartbeat starts to quicken. She throws a coke can in the general waste.
I cringe internally. This is now my life.
At…