I lay in bed and gazed up at the ceiling. Wish I hadn’t.
I remember as a young teenager being upset because my older brother would be invited to parties and not me. I remember standing at the kitchen counter, invitation to my brother in hand and complaining, ‘It’s not fair. I’m friends with them too. Why wasn’t I invited?’Read more "Monday Musings"
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that,’ Boris replied. ‘You see, you two are just not cooperating, you have to be dealt with—now, what’s the best way to eliminate you—slowly—and painfully?’ Boris cackled. ‘Ah, flies, how could I forget the flies?’
Our contention with bugs just became worse. Flies descended from out of nowhere and onto us. Eyes, nose, ears—no place was sacred for flies. Our moves fending off roaches now included swishing of our faces, the Aussie salute, as the flies mobbed us as if we were corpses.
[While painting this scene of a group of older men gathering to admire the glowing walls of Stanley Chasm, I was reminded of the T-Team’s trek in 1977 with Mr. B. This wealthy man used to comfort and luxury, took on the challenges of roughing it camping with the T-Team. This stunning chasm is about 50km west of Alice Springs and is one of the first of many beautiful sites to visit in the MacDonnell Ranges.]Read more "Story Behind the Painting: Stanley Chasm — Angkerle Atwatye"
Günter chuckled. ‘You won’t be eating melons again.’
‘It wasn’t the melon—I was spooked. That house is haunted.’
‘Rubbish, there are no such things as ghosts. You ate the melon and you got sick.’ Günter shook the fry pan, rolling the sausages from one side to the other. ‘Admit it, Miss Mueller.’
‘No, that house I went into—that made me sick.’
‘No, you must have eaten some melon.’
‘But you said it was deadly,’ I said. ‘How come I’m still alive?’