blue powder and soft snow...

okay, it's not quite that wintering yet, but the city has taken on a new skin. Grey and weathered and tearful.

I've been tearful all day (perhaps most of the week) and the long trolley rides into work only exacerbated this feeling. I read Zelda by Nancy Mitford and every few paragraphs I had to stop as the poignant glory of Scott's generosity and love toward Zelda made me want to weep.
I too, like both of them, but perhaps Zelda most of all, yearn for times past and a gone youth. Even though I'm not that old. Even though she wasn't either.

Nobody has measured...even the poets how much a heart can hold...

I am deeply worried about mum, though maybe worry isn't the right word. I feel a mixture of guilt, responsibility and heavy love and I don't quite know what to do with it all.
If only Hungary was an easier place to live, to make a living.
As D-Day creeps closer, I find myself shuttling through these city streets and asking myself, will you miss this? this? this?
And some days I say yes, but most days I say no.

I am ready. I am already picturing slow footed, comfortable, sweaty walks through Melbourne hand in hand with B, seeing through new eyes all over again. I'm 61 days away from a Pisco Sour with VC, the hours are textured like sandpaper.

So it's a mix. It's excitement, and sadness, and gratitude and right now- fatigue.

All I want now is to lose myself in something of the Jazz Age, and maybe cry some self-indulgent tears, but dammit I've read all the Fitzerald I own...

...

There have been stories in the Age this week about Franci MacNab and his desire to breathe 'fresh life' into Christianity, which he is planning to do with a $120000 advertising campaign, and claiming that Jesus was just a peasant, and Moses a mass murderer. Ahem.
I'm a bit tired now to go into what he did to my mother, but I wrote a letter to the Age...it didn't get published of course; how does one dare question the conscience of a 'minister for life'...
God forbid I ever meet the fucker face to face....

but I mustn't end on such a sour note...

The sweetest thing I saw today was a blind couple getting on the trolley with their guide dog, who sat down and proceeded to drool (in a very cute way) all over the floor. I don't know how, but the lady noticed and she wiped the dog's mouth with a clean tissue, all care and unselfconscious love.