A couple of nights ago I could see the heavy fog in Centennial Park from three in the morning or so in the late eighties in my mind’s eye. I would find myself sometimes walking for hours from somewhere in Sydney home on the weekend. Centennial Park which covers a few kilometres was not too far from home. I was always wandering the streets alone and I liked the way I could think to my heart’s content. I was oblivious to danger and generally, if I saw someone at that time far in the distance I would make sure I had kept a lot of distance just in case. I would go out with friends and everyone had a  different direction to head home. Buses and trains would stop operating by midnight on the weekends back then. Trains operated a little longer mind you but these days you can usually get a train or a bus at most hours. I loved walking back then. I was always walking. I looked forward to long walks. I loved thinking about things. I also had trouble sleeping most of the time. Once I got to sleep though I could doze for hours. Sometimes images from the past will pop into my head. A scene that had impressed itself upon me. Most details are gone though. I wouldn’t be able to recount more than that general scene. It was also a recurring scene over many years with multiple adventures.