march 11
'Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or a lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air ...'
> William Shakespeare, Anthony & Cleopatra
1.47pm
6.59pm
A vapour sometime like a bear or a lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air ...'
> William Shakespeare, Anthony & Cleopatra
1.47pm
6.59pm
february 28
last day of the month.
5.15pm
7.01. blue whale? sperm whale?
7.51pm. if only you could see that crescent moon for how crisp it is.
5.15pm
7.01. blue whale? sperm whale?
7.51pm. if only you could see that crescent moon for how crisp it is.
february 27
happy birthday to sister victoria.
a ridiculously photogenic day for a beautiful woman.
7.57am
3.08pm
3.52pm
7.24pm
a ridiculously photogenic day for a beautiful woman.
7.57am
3.08pm
3.52pm
7.24pm
february 23
2.08pm 
3.04pm. I call these the 'doona clouds'. you could just pull them up over your head.
3.27pm
6.13pm
6.14pm
3.04pm. I call these the 'doona clouds'. you could just pull them up over your head.
3.27pm
6.13pm
6.14pm
february 22
8.14am 
5.15pm. peek-a-boo.
5.40pm
6.18pm
when we first moved to the inner west of sydney, under the flight path, people often asked me about the planes. did I hate the planes? I hate the planes. not because they sometimes make a din. not because they are sometimes inconsiderately frequent. I hate the planes cause they cause terrible wanderlust. each one that carves its way past my back step is full of the beginning of a journey - [we only get take offs, you see] - each passenger anticipating the unblink of the seatbelt sign as the craft passes pale blues and splodges of white and leaves its trail behind in the clouds. and I wonder where each one of them is going.
6.19pm
7.23pm
5.15pm. peek-a-boo.
5.40pm
6.18pm
when we first moved to the inner west of sydney, under the flight path, people often asked me about the planes. did I hate the planes? I hate the planes. not because they sometimes make a din. not because they are sometimes inconsiderately frequent. I hate the planes cause they cause terrible wanderlust. each one that carves its way past my back step is full of the beginning of a journey - [we only get take offs, you see] - each passenger anticipating the unblink of the seatbelt sign as the craft passes pale blues and splodges of white and leaves its trail behind in the clouds. and I wonder where each one of them is going.
6.19pm
7.23pm
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