It’s one of those snapshot memories. I can’t quite recall what came before or after it, beyond the basic sketch of details, but there’s this single second that sits in my mind like a photograph. It was in 2010 and I’d just gotten off a train from Grafton. In Newcastle for the National Young Writers Festival, I was in taxi on the way to my hostel and, stalled by a red light, we sat at an intersection. Across the busy road there were huge, green trees and a small inexplicable wall with a circus themed mural on it. It was a hot day, dry and crisp and sweaty and the sun was poised at the top of its downward arc.