First winter in Sydney

It is July and I am wearing a wool jumper to the beach. Winter here means fifteen degrees and everyone acting like it is nothing, but my body keeps waiting for a real cold that never comes. The sun sits in the north at midday and I keep turning the wrong way out of the station. The gym has something they call a sauna. It is a warm cupboard. I sat in it for twenty minutes out of loyalty. Called home last night. Äiti held the phone too close to her face like always, and the call dropped before I could say the thing I had been saving all week. So I am writing it here instead. I am okay. The sun is in the wrong place, but I am okay.