She was a writer and a painter. A proper bohemian born in swinging London and bred in downtown Manhattan.
Now she was a Sydney girl - a model wife, a wild thing, a joker, a connector of people. She also used to be my best friend.
In early 2016 I had just arrived back in Sydney from London. I was feeling fearless yet failed, and hungry for a big life after having spent a tedious summer twiddling my thumbs in my hometown in New Zealand.
Watch: Our relationship deal-breakers. Story continues after video.
I felt ashamed that my ambitions for London had never come into fruition before my visa was up. I had so wanted to succeed in London, to have taken that town by storm, whereas in reality my existence there was living in a messy, mouse infested flat with five flatmates, all while doing my best to exist on an assistant’s salary.