‘Parsifal • Carrajung Lower’
a sheep truck inexplicably winds through the back streets of southbank – it smells like where i want to be. • mountain ash tower above my head, i’m ensconced by fern trees, and a crimson rosella has a long bath. we laugh because it is so amazing. • up there by isobel knight opens a hole in my chest that i knew was there but didn’t realise was so close to the surface. the music is good, but the evenings in the concrete jungle are long. • we come home to three funny dogs and three beautiful people who welcome us into their home completely. the sun touches the tops of the trees and the cows low in the cooling air. • back burns from strapping tape to play, cheeks burn from the sun on the beach, victoria you have so many different emotions and things in you, i want my feet in the dirt but playing soft long beautiful notes is another kind of ecstatic bittersweet bliss. i eat ploughmans cheese with tomatoes to remind myself i’m the same person in and out of the bush, and i’ll be back there soon. lay my head down on a pillow, time to dream of home and imagine the wind through casuarinas like my grandpa has told me he loves.
