Black Australia

Day 5

It's 9:21 AM, just landed in Melbourne. The flight was about an hour long. We caught a cab to the Wyndham. 

"Good morning sistahs!" The silk spun, salt and pepper haired driver greeted us in his strong Australian accent. I put my headphones back on as I sat on the grey leather seat of his 10 passager van. I got right into my zone, bopping my head to Jeezy, writing my post about the "Black Lives Matter" graffiti I saw on the board of Bondi beach yesterday. It's been a task to sit down and type my memoirs since we got here. My journal and my Nikon have been getting much more love than my iphone. 

I kept writing and vibing to the beat of "Perfection" while the girls laughed with the taxi driver. I wondered what they were talking about but I wanted to stay focused. I tried to concentrate but Shelly's face became a bit dismayed and I needed to know what was going on.... 

"My son was born here, not Africa, but people always ask him, 'Where are you from?' It's not like that in American. I lived there... But here, you can't be black and born here - people assume you migrated."

"Wowww.. We noticed that though." Shelly began to explain how ...

To be continued ....

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