02 October 2012

small things

I miss those summer holidays, somewhere on the south-east-coast-to-nowhere (for me, a hamlet called Currarong about 3 hours south of Sydney) where time comes to a virtual standstill of sun, small moments and sea water. The sticky night air, on a balcony, with thoughts/songs/voices, laying on wooden slats, crickets, grass itch from earlier......mozzies........aeroguard. Bed then morning coffee, stretch, kookaburra, parrots, bathers, seeing the sun through the underside of a wave. The ocean changing colour with weather and time of day until you are in it, a mood ring, blue for in love, the negative ions in saltwater charging you up like a liquid battery. When summers were so slow you could look at small things like the ends of your hair or mosquito larva in a puddle, the slow arc of the sun, silhouettes. And you forget to appraise yourself, freckles, beach hair, same shorts because you have only time for truly small things and grand things... and grand dreams. 

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