Home is where the Steve is

A strange thing happened to me the other day.

I fell in love.

I missed my fucking train at 7:20 AM because I was trying to leave an hour early. I also needed to buy a ticket so I had no chance, they only have eftpos on the city bound platform assuming us hicks trade in corn or something who go out to Upfield.
So I decided to ride up the train line until I could intercept a train going in that direction. Riding out of the city is an amazing thing, demographics change, housing changes, you realise what a living breathing thing a city is. The path itself tells a story.
My soundtrack was De La Soul is Dead, I fell in love with it. They tell a story like no other.
Anyway this didn't compare to how strange I felt the other day. I was walking down a laneway I'd walked down 400 times at least in my hood and I felt something...

I felt at home.

This feeling cannot be described, so sudden and instantaneous I suddenly knew what wars got fought over and shit.
I'm not saying I feel Australian, but somehow magnetically, Brunswick just became my centre. It was pretty neat.
All roads lead to Brunswick?