One fine day.

I made a mistake; I’ll be the first to admit it. It’s not my fault there is no one to watch me get dressed in the morning and stop me from mixing knee high rainbow stripped socks with my big, red breezy Fishermans pants. Only when my pants blew up like a fat suit whilst screaming along the road at 60km/h and exposed my little stripy legs to the world did it occur to me...

There’s no point to suffering if nobody sees it. There’s no point to wandering aimlessly unless somebody stops you.

There are flowers in my garden. Mum said they were freesias, I thought they were daffodils and it turns out they are joncles or something. Either way, they sprout miraculously every winter from bulbs that were planted years ago, like a nice little surprise you left yourself to bring cheer with the chilly winter sun and make you...

Wake up, cough, splutter and gasp for oxygen.

A beauty parlour 5000kms away called me 3 times to ask if I wanted to change my appointment for this week with Clara. I said I think you have the wrong number. I don’t get my eyebrows waxed, oh and my name isn’t Lisa either, also...

It’s so frustrating when it’s never quite the right time to tell someone you love them. It’s also really awkward when you do, and you know it doesn’t matter anyway.

My big red pants were washed and they died everything else orange. Like my shoes that are still shaded with pindan dirt from Broome and the shell in my pocket that reminds me of another time and place.

I’m trying so hard to concentrate. But instead I’m dreaming feverishly. I have a reoccurring dream of one sunny afternoon, seen from 4 different angles.

One see’s a lying, miserable, filthy whore who cannot be trusted and has cruelly run off to another place to conduct a secret affair. Bit by bit he becomes more blinded by rage and he doesn’t know it’s not the truth he see’s anymore, he forgets who the person once was.

The second feels alive and excited by a new start, but despite this she sails on a sea of tumultuous confusion spiced with guilt, an ever more pressing guilt that will turn the whole world upside down before long. She doesn’t know where to turn, she doesn’t know where to begin.

The third is slowly beginning to understand she’s alone. She decides to try and keep somebody else’s boat afloat rather than save her own because it makes sense at the time, in the end she’ll wish for a replay, she’ll wish she wasn’t pushed away, that she had a chance and it wasn’t all somehow her fault.

The fourth saw the whole thing from way above, apart from the world and this curious story, it bore witness to 3 competing threads, and died the whole thing orange with its spectacular light.

And when the orange light disappears, all three scream and I wake up to find myself still staring at the crest of the hill.

The Vultures

The edge of the world

These past weeks I have wandered from the far north, where the earth is red and the sunsets glow brilliant orange at dusk to the cold south where the big smooth boulders of the coast are battered by high seas and driving rain. Beaching and road tripping with my friends I had the time to absorb the world around me and revel in those quiet moments amongst trees and rocks, oceans and rivers and simply enjoy being around the kind of people that make this world worth it.

I stood alone on Cable Beach and gulped down big breaths of endless sky, and on the roads that wind through the depths of the forests I learnt of the tingle tree that burns through the heartwood in bush fires to survive only by a thin layer of living matter on the outside. I’m going to be like that sky and those trees, free and empty but alive.

My holiday time flew by, as it always does when you’d like it to pass slowly and now I have arrived at the gate of uncertainty, unsure what is to come my way these next few months. I am slogging my way uphill but my vision is blocked by the crest of the hill, I have no idea what’s coming my way. Maybe the road will twist beneath me so fast that I’ll come to a screaming halt in the bush, maybe it will continue as it has been... maybe this is in fact the edge of the world and I’m about to fall off?

If you never hear from me again, you know where to look for me.