this painting. It was painted about 150 years ago, but it is exactly how it looks to me now when I go for my nightly walk in summer.
I feel at home with my town now. Sometimes, like me, she is small and plain, sometimes clear, sunny, brilliant and sometimes blustery, dirty and biting.
I have a place here. Memories of childish icy bare feet on wet asphalt. First love in a yellow paddock of long swishy grass. My best friend fastening my wedding dress in my mother's house. Driving streets by rote to my father's raspy-breathed death.
We interred my father's ashes today. It was dark and low in my town today.
a break from the rhythm
3 days ago