The world is so rich and so filled, bursting with beauty.
We are sitting in the park beneath the towering oak trees, watching black birds.
Chris gestures for me to watch as one performs a mating dance.
It is hilarious and remarkable.
I want to be more real. More my own flavour. More Leonie.
More green leaves and the sumptuous silence inside me as I scribe into a journal.
I have seen outward, I want to see inward.
There is a whole person in here I am trying to remember.
The wind blows. Vines glisten as a spring shower of rain falls down.
I don’t want to think about what everyone else is doing.
I want to think about how I’m doing and who I am.
The light is magical and gives me shivers of delight. A shopping trolley is parked in an impossible, quaint position.
I think about the large camellias floating into all shades of magenta, and about second-hand stores, and thunder
and how I always want to be like this, feel like this.
The rain is falling steadier now, and we are safe beneath the embrace of trees.
The birds sound happy.
Rain always makes me feel this way.