BY ROBERT CATTO

It's nearly time. We're going soon.

I'm backing up. Packing up. Hitting the road, the rails, the sky - these are our last hours in Australia, and my mind is already ahead of us; even while the things around us are familiar, in my head we're in Toronto.

And yet, at the same time, Toronto is here all of a sudden - the shocking shooting on The Danforth this week means that, unusually, the Australian media is talking about familiar places from years ago, when Canada was home. The school where my mum taught kindergarten is just around the corner from the cafe where two people were senselessly killed, and dozens more injured, by a stranger with a gun.

A tabloid left behind on the train screams of it; the TV can talk about nothing else. Maybe they were students of hers, years ago.

By the time we get there, thoughts in Australia will have moved on. Kids in the park will still be playing soccer, as speeding dogs race past.

Around us though, everything will be different. The shapes of trees will have changed. We'll be...there.

We're going soon. It's nearly time. No stopping.