REBEL RESET
It’s a burnt-orange sunrise. I stand at the rock wall, where the Narrabeen lagoon meets the open ocean, for my daily surf check. The north-west wind breezes through me and combs over the three-foot alley rights, so I tug my flannel shirt tightly around my chest. In the lineup, a local launches from her board to push a grommet into a wave that peels into the shallows, and I think: Has COVID-19 segregated the world into haves and have nots? Who stands on the highest podium of privilege? And who’s trampled in the chaos of COVID-19? Well, I reckon it’s surfers. Wait, I’ll correct: a surfer whose beach remains open.
While the rest of the
