ANOTHER YEAR

It really wasn’t that long ago when what I saw was the child’s rope swing…

now all I see is the noose…and isn’t it funny how the sun just keeps on shining so brightly

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...words, music and pictures (1929)

A new diary for the new year, blessed with Everlastings from Louise and offerings of kind words, music and pictures. 90 long years she has been waiting for her blank pages to be filled and so only the dearest words I shall write within her. As like her, I have known what it is to wait long, unknowing if the dearest shall ever help ease the emptiness with words…just a few little words, music and pictures.

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While waiting for the evening train.

Having parted with my two dearest friends that morning following a most magical time together in the misty Blue Mountains, I continued in the dream-like state I had found myself in and spent a summers day in Sydney where strangely the mist had found itself too. Looking at art in galleries and reading books in libraries, it seems I was still in a dream!

'Watch the slow door'. I'll focus and be there soon

And mostly when I’m living daily life, doing daily life things, all I really feel I’m doing is whispering important nonsense into the sleeves of a straight jacket and tracing footprints around on a well-worn floor, having been ushered inside a revolving door.

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How they all laughed at me.

I played the game for a little while and wearied of having to stay in it just to gain more and more. So I pulled out and let the others win.

But it is just a game, for fun, they teased.

Perhaps it was just my heart that could never understand the point- to win, was to make others lose. How does one think like that and call it a game they enjoy.

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Going Home

Taking the backroad this evening.

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she remembers

She closed her eyes and tried very hard to remember her last moment. She remembers…

in her last moment, her whole life flashed before her eyes…

not the one she had lived

…but the one she had missed.

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Somewhere in time

The years passed by…and I passed by the years.

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Waterfront

Every day she writes you a letter with a pencil that has no lead,

and addresses it to a future house, that never does get built…

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Lost and found

We are lost now…

But every evening, when I close my eyes,

I return to the place where you found me.

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