I dance. I fly – dog paddle upwards, a vertical take-off like a helicopter (great for escaping danger), and breaststroke through the sky or glide on updrafts. There is joy in the journey. But back down on earth, leaving the reverie, my physical and attitudinal surroundings are not so conducive to travel. I use a mobility scooter or wheelchair to get around and commuting on public transport from Blacktown to Wynyard Station is closer to a nightmare.

A dark pink background with Sydney Review of Books written in black at the top. An orange and a white star-like design is below with "Essay: Gaele Sobott on Commuting 'Commutare'" written in a white box over the stars.