She says I like to kiss you
He says you'd better not
He's on the brink of loving
She's on the brink of falling
- Sharon and Hope, Stina Nordenstam

In emerald and oyster pink
I was asked if I had a date tonight.
No, I replied. Just felt like being pretty today. Forced smile.
This skirt reminds me Leeuwin Estate and hot sandy footpaths;
Of hungover Saturday afternoons walking down Flinders Lane and Little Collins St; brown paper shopping bags and home-made Thai green curry.
I haven't worn it in more than 12 months. I can't even stomach the smell of green curry paste.
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The house has been sold and the packing will start soon.
Packing I loathe, unpacking I loathe with great vehemence.
At least there is anticipation of change to cushion the resentment attached to packing.
Unpacking marks the end of extraordinary times - and the recapitulation of routine.
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I've become a horoscope whore.
Monday mornings are now kick-started by reading the stars section in every magazine delivered to my in-tray.
I figured that if nobody else could give me answers,
Reading between the lines would suffice for now.
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