Too many ideas. Lovely UK. Lovely NZ. Anknel and Burblets. Not Macrobiotic. Lovely Churches. The handbook for truck drivers who want to avoid right hand turns on New Zealand Roads.
Photography. Film. Digital. Advertising. Products. Interfaces.
Visiting friends. Time alone. Drinking wine or not. Even admitting it. Going out and having fun. Travel. Phoning my Dad.
These are all things I haven’t done in ages.
But children. Yes I have spent time with you.
And some books I have read you.
But mostly stories made up at bedtime.
And we cook together.
And I answer your questions. Or I simply wonder – and see what you think.
And work you have had me.
And people at work. Some people talk.
And tonight I had a talk with my brother. And we don’t really need words and I always thought that was mum, but now being a school parent I am learning it was the school. So tonight I saw an old school friend. We didn’t need words to communicate. A random meeting our last nine years ago in the village we grew up in. Our parents still at home. Hug. Stuff in common. Here we are. Here.
Yes, you. Subtle.
I am too tired to explain.
I just sometimes don’t want to explain. Often it’s easier to have the moon dance on your wrist than talk about, shit. Shit. Ah just take me to history. And in that I find ease and quiet. And me. Just me. Just at ease. Just you like Croatia.
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