Words

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

dreaming of a wee campsite in the corner of the paddock. itching to throw everything into a rucksack or onto the bike and get on

‘lockdown london’ normally i talk about heartbreak as a good thing – it tells you what you care about, it helps you grow, it teaches

‘slow’ got that heartbeat, that rhythm in me saying “be still, be still”. i thought it was saying “keep going, keep going” but i was

‘make a place home’ been thinking a lot about ways a place can become home – christmas is on the horizon and while it is

she’s sweet and soft and tastes like honey (yellow box and thistle). hands tan and cracked – likes doing things with them but they’re not

‘courtney barnett’ “shave your head to see how it feels; emotionally, it’s not that different. but to the hand, it’s beautiful. yeah, to the hand,

‘even in sydney i dream’ been thinking about home and sunsets and winter weather. chai and cake at badde manors. wattle bursting bursting bursting. the

this morning, the cat smelt like rain and nasturtium leaves as i cradled her, watching my porridge spin in the microwave. she’s always clingier on

‘soft moonrise over darug country at dusk.’ it was somehow important to see the big burn from the summer with my own eyes. the evening