It's time to go.

A couple of weeks ago, I was offered a hub venue for the Melbourne Fringe in 2008. However, I'm not going to be performing at Melbourne Fringe anymore. The show has reached an irreparable impasse for the time being, and I've had to cancel the season. I'm a little sad, but somewhat enlightened.

Yes, enlightened. Often when writing, you think you know where the story's going, and what your main points are. However, sometimes the words take over, and form a new conclusion. You learn things about yourself and the world that you're writing about that you never realised.

And all of a sudden you're swept along in a train of thought that you never considered before, and it completely throws everything else, because you can't ignore it.

I've realised that there is so much that I love about Darwin, and so much that I've learned to love, that I didn't love before. However, there are also limitations. I can push at barriers as hard as I like, and eventually something's going to give.

But I can't help but feel that it'll be me.

There's a very old magic about this place, that maintains its status quo - a certain madness that lingers in the air, and holds it all together. To quote Nicholas Rothwell in a recent interview, it's something "so lush, so beautiful, yet so violent and so frustrating." It is entrancing and intoxicating, and permeates its inhabitants. Everybody is affected differently. Some people are seduced, and stay for the rest of their life. Some people leave immediately within months of arriving.. And some people stay, and hold out until that internal Big Brother voice finally booms, "It's time to go." The countdown begins, and as much as you'd like to stay and see what happens, deep in your heart you *know* that it's time to go.

I've recently had to bid farewell to friends that I've made in the past year, and will be seeing off others in the coming months.

I can't help but wonder when it will be my time to leave.