Making a run for it

By

The first time I left home, I was seven years old. I was so mad. I have no idea what I was mad at, but my god, it was shocking. I made a Vegemite sandwich, packed my favourite yellowed teddy bear in my Space Jam backpack, took one last wistful look at the rest of my toys, and I was gone.

I made it less than a block.

Read More