We decided that we wanted to see the Mornington Peninsula, so we went to Frankston--the only peninsula town accessible by public transportation. The problem with that, though, is that aside from this bridge and a sand sculpture contest that you had to pay to see, there was absolutely nothing to do. We literally spent 3 hours wandering around looking for a fish & chips place that wouldn't give us salmonella.




This friend was insane. S/he (did you see what I did just then? Yeah feminism!) spent approximately seven minutes wildly flapping his/her wings, rocking back and forth, convulsing, just being all-around psychotic. It was highly entertaining.













I like to imagine that this newspaper is from the late 1800s and has been sitting, relatively unravaged by time, on this tiled porch for over a century while the wall around it crumbles. It's probably from last week and is soaked in dog urine, but I can dream.












This was down an alleyway near Lygon Street, the Italian district of Melbourne. Through this door is a tiny herb garden (I may or may not have stalked it multiple times...over the course of two days) and I think this is the greatest sign ever. Mama, can we make a clay replica of it and hang it out the kitchen window?












These are just some random people that call me sometimes. Or sometimes I call them. And we talk, although not really about anything in particular. Mainly the weather. And sometimes they hold my cat up to the camera and she hisses and squirms and punctures their arms with her eagle-like talons of death.