blurry mornings weary bones days warm m inds slow sitting waiting longing heart needing warming despite the weather that day which dawns everything still comes too quick it's surprise leaving me breathless solitary as if there is just the child and I as if we two can make the world whole through our shared gaze i have no gift to bring but this torn tired soul bent out of shape a year of encounters leaving their mark the child has no wealth nothing but love
Thanks to a conservative blog for peace I have become quite intrigued by with US series “Mad men”. For most Australians this is quite an unknown program, the second series being premiered this Sunday night on specialized broadcaster SBS, leaving us well behind the US which is currently airing the fourth series. For those who don’t know, Mad Men takes place in the early 1960’s, varying its setting between the main characters Advertising office workspace, their homes and social lives. As the series progresses we discover that the characters are not at all what they seem, both outwardly and inwardly, as we journey with them through the historical events and changing social patterns which have influenced so much of our modern culture. It is this historical element which captured me. The ways husbands, wives and children inter-related. The constant smoking and drinking. The more relaxed pace of life. Infidelity and the subsequent risks and consequences. Psycho-analysis just beginning ...
So I thought I'd finished with this blog but the universe seems to have conspired to line up events in such a way that I couldn't help but to write about it . . . . October 2016 I'm in Caen, France, after spending 4 glorious days in Paris seeing the sites and eating some great food. Caen is a wonderful small town where I wander with my friends, enjoy the history that I am there to learn and reveal in the experience of travel. Early one morning I awaken to missed calls and texts messages. My Dad is fatally ill. Can you come home? 36 hours later via trains and planes, some sleep, much wine, I am down in Mandurah sitting with Dad, listening to him breathe gently and then finally, with a slight dramatic flourish, dying. The usual chaos follows - family, funerals, fights, and then suddenly . . . . its back to work. February 2017 I'm exhausted. In such a way that I have never experienced. The summer slipped by in weariness, books and not much else. A go...
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