By three in the afternoon, after one Bintang too many, I was absolutely smashed and feared that trying to stand may end badly.
Lighting a cigarette with a sense of achievement for company made the journey worth it.
The people are immensely likable- cheerful, extrovert, quick-witted, and unfailingly obliging. Their cities are safe and clean and nearly always built on water. They have a society that is prosperous, well ordered, and instinctively egalitarian. The food is excellent. The beer is cold. The sun nearly always shines. There is coffee on every corner. Life doesn’t get much better than this.
He was on the edge of a cliff. And he wasn’t jumping, he was diving, a huge swan dive, like those famous cliff-top divers in some exotic place he’d seen on television once. Only they landed safely, bodies cutting into seawater like knife blades.
And his dive was a killing one.
Alone of all the races on earth, they seem to be free from the ‘Grass is Greener on the other side of the fence’ syndrome, and roundly proclaim that Australia is, in fact, the other side of that fence.
More than this, I believe that the only lastingly important form of writing is writing for children. It is writing that is carried in the reader’s heart for a lifetime; it is writing that speaks to the future.
I am halfway through Hillary Clinton’s latest called “Living History”…pretty lighthearted on the scale…unlike David Hick’s autobiography…I had to skip a couple of hundred pages in the middle of that one because it was too distressing for me to read. Undoubtedly yours will be the same…I will read the beginning, skip all the awful bit in the middle and read your happy ever after bit at the end.
…. does not read like history, but like the most beautiful lies.
It seems to me that the good lord in his infinate wisdom gave us three things to make life bearable- hope, jokes, and dogs. But the greatest of these was dogs.
As academia became my identity, my fascination with firefighters became buried and, seemingly, died.