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In that quiet moment,
Veronica finally read your note.

She was happy and sad all at once,
the rapture, the descent into a past she preferred to forget
revealed in the slight shake of her hand...

She was transfixed by the beauty of your signature.

Randomness favours the prepared mind!

She smiled. The breeze from the open window comforted her...
helped with the hotness of her skin,
with that familiar thumping of her pulse.

I don't think she'll ever see you
again.

the strangers

The outer frame was meant to represent reality, the perspectives, the experiences.

It was also meant to reflect the inner vistas where thoughts and sensations mingle with sounds of trains moving and fast food smells lingering...

Unknown faces, body shapes beautiful and familiar... memories, ideas, thoughts and more thoughts that I can't quite remember now...

But there, just in frame, lingering at the edges, the colour, the space, the beautiful blur of movement...

Waiting for train,
catching train, waiting for train...
waiting for train...

closer... closer...

Shadows and stones.
Shapes and shadows.

That point of reference that holds us elsewhere...

you are the world

I believe we cannot reflect on our own existence
without the idea of what if?

Parliament House, Melbourne

authenticity

Removed from social reality, Veronica adored the world of the super reality, that (known) unknown space behind appearance that sometimes shocked and excited the most jaded adult.

Welcome to Melbourne, Veronica!
Sydney will miss you...

sky statue

Summer in Melbourne.

The air is warm, the sky a deep, rich blue... Look up! Clouds float amidst curves of gothic statues and old time architecture... Such beautiful skyscrapers and old growth trees...

This is the space we inhabit.

she distrusted her beauty

It began as a dream, an innovation...

She wore long, striped socks with matching
cut-off sleeves... black flapper glasses almost
covered her eyes. There was a mole half way down
her back, nestled on her spine.

In the night, she could have been
anybody... full lips... taut, perfect
skin.

She never said a word.

it can happen any time

A rush of blood...
But she's not religious!

6 foot 3

What we see,
what we remember...

Quietly and magically
transported by him.

James Cook,
MELBOURNE

pure allure

The rupture of contact with reality;
exchanging one fear for another...

Time, movement and dynamism of the modern world...

double take

Is that you? I'm sure that's you. It's midday... Chapel Street is abuzz with vibrant bodies and romantic liaisons. The air is cool, the sun, high in the sky.

I smile nervously.
Laughter is everywhere.

Close to you now...
I whisper,
You're so beautiful.

strange personal pleasures

Every unexpected detail...
The world you carry within you.

vanishing point

And now, sitting outside, drinking champagne, the moon rising in the sky... the women, each softly appraising the other, each quietly entranced by beautiful eyes and languid bodies, laugh and speak intimately and intellectually, understanding the extremes of their years of estrangement in every word that floats between them...

the world we cherish

I wonder about harmony...
how it softens the sense of change.

love calls you by your name

We cannot know his beautiful face with eyes of quick defiance.

And yet he's suffused with brilliance from inside...

gleaming in all his power...