Crying in commercial art galleries isn't new for me. But I'm not sure eyes watering at the price tags actually counts. Tonight was something else. Tonight was in a space upstairs, above the art, in a performance area. Here in this tiny space was a one-woman show about a woman dealing with her mum's dementia. It was beautiful and took me straight back 15 years to my dad and his battle. It was told with such beauty. It was in itself a work of art. And because I needed time to personally debrief I walked past the old shops in The Gabba peering in for a glimpse at what was inside.
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