I think consciously about getting through the dark spots and making it to the petrol station with what I've counted to be four CCTV cameras. I don't know if they're actually recording but it weirdly comforts me to think they are. Four more minutes.
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A few weeks ago my housemate and I had a conversation about the cameras and I told her how I consciously think about being recorded by them, Jill Meagher style. I joked that I almost give them a smile and wave.
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I think about the ridiculousness of the last Instagram story I made. If something happened to me, maybe they could trace me back to the last insta story I took. I sometimes make them on this walk home, maybe they'd see I was fine at 9.15. So ridiculous.
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And what's the alternative? Dont be out after dark? Pay for an uber? Taxi? It's a seven minute walk. Quicker if you run. Easier to get away if you're on a share bike. This is the way we have to think and what happened to Eurydice Dixon drives this home.
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I take all these precautions everyday, every single day, and if something happens to me, is it my fault cause I was in one of those dark spots? Seven. Minute. Walk.
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It's not a matter of IF this will happen again, it's if this will happen to ME.
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In my college days when I would walk home from class at 9 or 10 in the evening (about 3x a week for four years), I called my mom every single time so that if anything happened, I would have SOMEBODY who knew. From the moment I left until I shut and locked my apartment door.
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I know that exact feeling.
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