CHAPTER 34
The Brisbane River gleamed in the late afternoon sun like a giant brown slug. Was it ever any other colour but brown? If so, Reuben had never seen it. In earlier times it was one of the many reasons he’d thought Brisbane a depressing place to live; now he was willing to see it as part of its elusive charm. He couldn’t quite pin down what it was, but he was getting used to it; it was seeping into his bones.
In the week since he’d found the run-down flat on a little dead-end street at West End, he’d walked down to the park every afternoon to sit in the coolness of the Moreton Bay figs and watch the day fade into dusk. It transported him back to his uni days. He’d shared student digs at another run-down flat not far away, as well as dope, booze and cheese sandwiches, and swapped
