I'm walking into Stanthorpe. It's a small country town with a few churches, shopping centres, the odd cafe run by kindly local ladies with calked up menus, and three pubs, each with its regulars.
It sits low so as you walk in, you can see the hills around with varying levels of haze, and from the valley, spires stick up, outlining the streets you know below.
The day is still warm enough to go out with just a t-shirt, but you can take a jumper if you want to be cosy. The sun has sunk to eye level and without it's menacing heat, it feels quite homely. It's keeping the sky yellow and turquoise before the night paints it a more royal blue and finally throws over a wizard's cloak of stars.
