April 17 2021 – London, England

got some alpine dreaming in me right now. big skies, little to no trees. been listening to ‘on the punt’ by the aerial maps a little too much recently and it makes me think of hot, dusty summer road trips. •

when the smog of the city gets too much and i put a tent in the back of the car and drive. doesn’t matter how far i go, only that i’ve gone, and that no one can contact me if i don’t want them to. • 

when the people are too much, even in the quiet of the bush, it’s time to run. throw the stove in the back and drive across nsw to where the clouds are flat bottomed against a washed out blue sky (like they only ever are in the west) and the dry stalks of kangaroo grass blow across the dirt roads. that hot steamy haze and dips in billabongs in the evening to wash off the rubber from changing tyres, and the grit from your eyes in the morning. • 

it is good, saying “today i will do this” or “tomorrow i will go there” and arriving to find something different to what you expected. let’s climb that mountain, or sit for an hour over breakfast and watch this cicada’s wings unfurl and inflate with blood. the rivers run deep, wide, fast, and cold. like me. • 

i lie flat in the river in my hat, holding onto a rock so i stream away in the current with the soft green weeds around me. platypus have played here, you just know it. cool water on hot skin. summer is coming here now, and freckles are collecting on my cheekbones. time to run, soon. time to run to where the stars are bright and the beers are cold. barefoot on the grass in the dewy mornings. peace, at last.