Levitating

There were a few discrete moments I wanted to capture before they drifted away like bubbles rising through sparkling water.

Descending in the elevator at the Vibe in Melbourne an adjacent passenger asked me what I was doing for Christmas, or some such small talk inquiry. I replied that my partner and I were going to Warrnambool. “I’m from Warrnambool” exclaims his partner, who it turns out grew up about a block away from where Ann and I stayed when we were there before, and who told tales of surfing with Maureen, from whom we previously rented.

On the train the next day going to Warrnambool I connect visually with a woman   passing down the aisle. She lights up as do I to her, although nothing is said. I don’t remember her name, but she was, is, a very engaging largely non-verbal developmentally disabled adult with whom I worked when here before.

Also while on the train, Ann sees a fox running through a field.  A few minutes later I see another one.

These little bits of seemingly isolated experiences, along with many others known and likely unknown too, paint an ever-changing pointillism masterpiece.

Today we went to Levi Beach, another ever changing masterpiece of another type: miles of empty beach running east and west, sandwiched between dunes and bush on the north and rough waving ocean to the south. What a feast it was. Ann and I were alone on this seemingly abandoned deserted stretch of the Shipwreck Coast.  Alone, except for the company of shore birds, sea weed, moving shifting sand dunes, bones of birds and fish, flotsam, jetsam (way too many bits of plastic), old boards, tangles of rope, and expectations or hopes of Jules Verne-like shadow creatures emerging from the waves.

Tonight we stepped back in time to the timelessness of Tower Hill: two koalas in a eucalyptus taking over for a partridge in a pear tree, three baby emus, and a giant hare hopping along with a mum kangaroo whose pouch was overflowing with a joey stretching out and trying to nibble on grass and bush in between maternal hops. There were a smattering of blue fairy wrens too, our all time favorite tiny bit of flying flitting about color.