As I write this my Outrigger and I are perched on a balcony. The Outrigger has his nose buried in a law book and I am busy making up strategies in the pursuit of another dream. (Strictly speaking though, I'm procrastinating at the moment.) The Outrigger says I have a knack for making dreams come true. Sometimes this is a scary thought. From where we sit I see pine trees, grey sky and a distant lighting storm. An occasional crow flies across our view. I can almost forgive the cars and jeepneys rattling up and down the road below us. I can almost forgive the loud pop music and the mediocre coffee from the cafe behind us. This morning I took my two daughters, the Artist-in-Residence and the Little Boss, horseback riding. They spent half an hour humming to each other in their own world, on the back of Viper, a pony that the Artist-in-Residence has loved and returned to again and again for the past ten years. Lifetime friendships are made in Wright Park. Halfway through the day w...
(notes from the voices in my head)