(no subject)
This morning I went out for milk; the sky was incredibly blue, and though only 9am, it was already too hot for my jeans... tiny children are being dropped off to school, threesomes and foursomes of galahs and white herons flap about, clusters of delicate white mushrooms pop up around my feet. An ancient, ancient Holden struggles to start, right next to a gleaming Mercedes. The creek is filled to bursting with greenery so you can barely see the water; the primary school seems to give off a smell of crayons and paint into the very air. Suddenly, I am delighted to be here and not somewhere else - not here in Coffs Harbour, where my friends aren't, where I can't get a job or drool in an extensive library, but here in a small-city street in the summer, where everything alive seems to glow, you can always hear the birds and I am walking, just walking, doing nothing else at all.
Everything around fell right into my head leaving me struggling to find something to do with it - some way to make it permanent or to make its value apparent. I was writing in my mind, taking notes, wondering if I could relate it in my blog, but now I am trying I seem to have left something out even though I know I have left nothing out, bar the fact that I am no longer submerged in that perfect fragment of morning, and it is gone.