[For Lenore
Stephens] Drinking inside the snug with wandering Angus, the Innisfree side of
Lough Gill. Watching blue bowerbirds scamper for green grapes, retreat.
Compiling our personal anthology of eccentricities of Anglican clergy. Watching
in the millennium on the rocket-riotous roof of Clifton Hill. Going with the
wondrous girl on the magical ferry across the harbour of dreams. Hearing the loud
commotions of school on first day in the February of the year. Listening to
Anouar Brahem through dinner, still talking long after his little night music
ends. Writing in provincial galleries while the girl fills her wondrous visual
diary.
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