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Brunch beers. Ferry on Sydney Harbour. Luna Park. Milsons Point markets. Powerhouse Museum. 80s nostalgia. Designgasm. Chinatown. Cockle Bay Wharf beers, Panthers ahead at half time. Centrepoint Tower, crammed in a lift with a hundred Chinese tourists laughing at my enormous feet. Trying on perfumes and turbans at David Jones. Trains. Luna Park, every ride possible. Freezing on the ferris wheel, diagonal rain. Coney Island, fortunes told by ancient machines. Scamming the last ride on the Wild Mouse. Water taxi. Strawberry ice-cream cone. Over 500 photos. Delicious exhaustion. No words.

The gorgeous Henrik last night predicted, from all the way over in Sweden, that this would be “the best weekend ever and it hasn’t even started yet”. So far, he’s on the money. We haven’t even got to Anzac Day two-up and public holiday barbeques yet. So happy.

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