Feline of the Opera – in search of a tortoiseshell diva

Outside there's a neon finger-sign soaring skyward, the oversized letters reading `ASTOR'. The building’s not much to look at; the high facade brick, of cream and red. The veranda is low and squarish, the fascia lined with a string of bare light globes. From a street...

A Viking Funeral – parting ways

Boerne is 51yrs old, handsome in a rugged sort of way; olive skin, high cheekbones and black straw-like hair. He’s never been a talker and we sit on the veranda drinking beer instead, our eyes drawn to a 2 x 6 metre recycle bin out front. At the end of the day the sun...

Forever in Neverland – modern day immortality

  'Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.' ― JM Barrie   There’s a large page-4 headline and a small picture. His face is olive-brown, tilted slightly towards me, the hand of a close friend across the back of his bare neck....

A Bhutan Christmas – an ode to Sandy Hook

Sometimes I sit and think, pondering the luxury of an unquestionable faith in something; to know that innocent kids killed in a pre-Christmas tragedy will somehow find a better place. From a cathedral of sticks I gaze across at the towering neo-Gothic spires of St...

Black Top Road – of Piedmont Blues

  Upright sleeves of vinyl records – Mayall, Joplin and Bloomfield – sit above a dishevelled shelf of seventy assorted blues CDs, and these days an under-used turntable. I read the CD titles from left to right, tucking in a Broonzy and dusting off a Burnside. I grab...

Birds of Paradise – chickens rule OK

They sit in the kitchen – Mr and Mrs L – overlooking a backyard of woodpiles, wheelbarrows and tussocks of native grass. It’s early summer. The pungent scent of rambling Chinese jasmine wafts across the yard and mingles with the smell of last night’s rain. The weekend...

The Ghost Dance – mixing memories

"I have sent for you and I am glad to see you. I am going to talk to you after awhile about your relatives who are dead and gone.’"                                        – Wovoka, Paiute American Indian prophet   From Pierre I catch the first available flight to Los...

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