Of peak hour traffic on Punt Road,
Cast iron and victorian green.
The love for seasons
That quickly became an eagerness for summer.
Of holding tightly to warm flesh
In crisp mornings, still blue.
Skipping on cushions of amber leaves
Down the centre strip of a cul de sac.
Fresh (then refreshed) marvel at the beauty of magnolias against gothic facades,
Clear blue sky over the Majorca Building,
White-washed terraces, and candyfloss blossoms.
Of falling on footpaths flanked by the early buds of spring, grassy green everywhere.
Chocolate sundae on sweat-damp beach towel,
Sand between toes, salty hair.
Afternoon cocktails that smell of lychees;
Cigarettes and beer over guilt-ridden conversations;
Cigarettes and gin and tonics under the sunset, just when burnt sienna meets watercolour teal.
Between the first summer and this winter
I've discovered almost 20 descriptions for pink.
I finally found ready-made honey pop corn that I'd eat,
Although I do wish they'd sell it at the cinema.
The smell of rain and shower steam;
Peony roses on the passenger seat.
The sight of white cocktatoos perched on the median strip of the Eastern Freeway as I drive to work,
The sound of my kitten heels rapping on cobblestone laneways.
Of mismatched chairs and orange coffee machines;
Country slow service and a whole lot of Sunday drivers.
Of moments alone.
All to myself, all for myself.
Ikebana with kangeroo paw,
Chinese stirfries with broccoli and capsicum.
*
Why is she going,
If not for chance?
*
Between booking flights, bubblewrapping perfume bottles, and late night conversations,
I've neglected nostalgia.
Now I sit in the leafy courtyard at a little Brighton cafe,
Swigging Genovese lattes and my last days of winter.
It comes to me.
*
Martin St Cafe, Brighton, 27 July 2004

What takes place in the early part of the week - when Venus forms encouraging patterns with Mars - will give a wonderful boost to your enthusiasm. The writer Joseph Campbell once advised people to follow their bliss and you're about to discover exactly what he meant. The plans, projects or people that make you feel as if you're flying are the ones to put the energy into chasing. For once, the practical aspects of your life can wait.

The Orchard, Red Hill South, 11th July 2004
+
Winter morning's brilliance at its peak.
A determined sun challenging puffy eyes,
Warming chapped skin,
Keeping banksias at peace.
The murky lake shimmering in such rippling calm,
All you hear is natural sound.
When there's no struggle with morning-after sobriety
The sun doesn't make you shy away.
+
Time on loan without urgency.
No delirium from stretching the hours of wakefulness;
No fighting for stoppered emotion.
+
The Baths, Sorrento, 11th July 2004
We replaced coffees with beers.
I'm afraid of waves, height, and the dark, I told you.
+
Sorrento-Queenscliff Ferry, somewhere on Port Phillip Bay, 11th July 2004
Gender stereotype observed:
He buys a meat pie from the shop, and she, a chocolate-coated Magnum.
I am uneasy with the rocking.
Makes me think of the swaying racks in Alannah Hill boutique -
You're never quite sure if it's you or the place.
+
Chatby Lane, Lorne, 11th July 2004
It's 9.30 at night and all the shops are closed.
All but one. The hardworking Chinese always saves the day.
+
Geelong Waterfront, 12th July 2004
I comment on the different shades of blue spread out before us.
Depth, you offer.
A lone seagull perched on concrete.
Beer and coffee later we get in the car and sing along to Top 40s.
+
Aka Tombo, Prahran, 13th July 2004
We let Akira take us on an exceptional gastronomical journey.
Like always, there is sake-riddled laughter.
It's always a good time here.
+
Home, 14th July 2004
White ribbon and turquoise box,
A message I've left on the mirror
To remind me in the time you're away.
I wouldn't do anything differently.
+

+
Getting through grey-scale days
With lists and shadowy eye bags.
Not long now, they keep hissing.
It seems like fucking forever.
+
I'm thinking of anemones.
They say dreaming of anemones bodes the unravelling of a major change.
+
She's let instinctive redress supercede
Astrological incompatibility.
As Sinatra's The Way You Look Tonight waltzed through wood and lime-muddled Bombay Sapphire
She looked at him
And it seemed strangely right.
+
You might have to work a little harder
Than me because you have skinny palms.
+

When inertia collides with clamour for change.
How does one know
Moira's edict from nurtured proclivity?
*
Today was a beautiful 15 degrees
Of winter sunshine and happiness.
We had beer and burgers
Between Morpheus' games and sunset.
*
From intended closures I've seen new beginnings.
Of late I've swayed from chosen paths.
The volatility that was once me
I'm still battling.
*

Next week's stars:
You have a journey and the process you're going through will last a while. There's no getting out of it so you may as well get into it. You'll be surprised, once you make the decision to adapt to what can't be altered, that you can feel happy with it. The forces are friendly, the path they lead you along is positive. The only thing negative is your sense of doubt. You're not sure how much you want to trust a person or situation. But you have to trust and you won't regret it.