A quiet breakfast watching the waves I heard something unexpected a honk? a swan? here? yet it was and it was just one. Later, driving out we passed a rabbit lying in the narrow shade of a streetlight pole I felt lucky not being alone this morning. »
The streets seemed familiar well-intentioned over-planning leaving little room for wonder beyond the quaint bus stops I tried to match places to prior memories and wondered about my mood last time I was there. Atop one hill An American chased a magpie with his camera I tried to warn him they don’t follow instructions. Atop another a strange building the kind you hope might survive us all and confound our ancestors. »
I took a dumpling-making class mostly to keep my hands occupied and to get myself out doing something different with people I didn’t know. I kneaded, and flattened, and rolled while 70’s country music played softly worried I might sing out loud if a Marty Robbins song appeared. I guess I’ll die with this fever in my soul. »
I took the bus to a nearby suburb and walked up a hill I hadn’t visited in years to a quiet area of pine trees. Just me and a few dog walkers. I stood behind a tree stump and bathed in the cold sun, while a currawong sang overhead. An old man passed by, complaining about the trees blocking the lovely view of the valley that could once be seen from here. »
a phone’s alarm i wake up screaming “ah, ah, …” catching my breath and fumbling for my phone oh it’s the other guy in the cabin he switches it off leaves the train at the next town I fall asleep again somehow waking to greenery and a voice selling breakfast from a tiny trolley bánh bao nhân thịt miến. »