The Unspoken Agreement
I remember sitting on a rusted gate in a paddock outside of Proserpine, waiting for the heat of the day to break. A kookaburra landed on the wire just a few feet away, its feathers ruffled by a dry, inland breeze. We didn't move. There was…
The Soft Blur of Being
There is a rhythm to the seasons that we often overlook in our haste to reach the next destination. We treat time as a straight line, forgetting that it is more like a tide, pulling back and pushing forward in a gentle, rhythmic dance. When…
The Rhythm of the Stream
I spent this morning trying to fix a leaky faucet in the kitchen. It was one of those small, persistent annoyances that you ignore until the sound starts to feel like a ticking clock. I kept turning the wrench, watching the water drip, and…