While at the Sydney Writers Festival I did a lot of dining on my own. I quite enjoy it: watching people, listening. We are endlessly fascinating in our small differences. The ways we coalesce and break apart; hold our histories in our bodies. This is one of the reasons I enjoy writers festivals: they make you alive to stories. They inspire empathy; allow us a safe space in which to broach difficult subjects. We think deeply about how we can do better.