Apart from the odd visit
or market day
I've been away for a while
.... but now I'm back.
Inventoria and I have returned
from the radiated lands
pens firmly in hand
eyes firmly on the circus.
Now the first thing I do
is visit Estelle ...
if you don't know her
I humbly suggest that you read
this very blog's entry from
feb 07 ... "your own personal jesus"
.... anyway, she's quite the lady.
Estelle gives me a hug that says
... "gosh it's good to see you
but I ain't gonna say it"
Estelle darts mesmerisingly about her flat,
the park below reminds me of
something I left years ago.
There is something different about her.
The look in her eyes flickers between
and that of an unknowing child.
Her steadfast glint, her unwaivering precision
is waivering. I wonder what getting old ....
and I mean really old is like.
She interupts my self absorbtion in her
state of mind by asking me a question...
If you were about to die ... old boy
she says to me ... today, right now
what one thing would you regret?
I fumble slightly and smile at her ..
well it's nice to be back I say.
she doesn't return my sense of flippancy
but calmy says .... well you don't have to answer it now
The afternoon ambles onward
the two of us wrapped in it's spell ...
Estelle tells me much of Kings Cross
the Clunes and their gallery cohorts
Olsen, Hughs, Klippel
she talked of evenings at the California
on Darlinghurst rd
or just opposite at the Arabian ...
two cafes that would look sadly out of place in the cross today.
I hear about her friend, the courageous and beautiful
Juanita Nielson who paid a high price
for us to enjoy the trees on Victoria Street.
I remember her name on the telly
as a kid ...
and on we discuss ...
i tell her of the saturday night scum
the cars, the plasma screens
the distinct lack of bohemia
but it's not all bad I say
I paint you the worst of it
I know she says ...
looking tired, I decide to leave
She gives me another hug
a warmer one it feels
and says visit again ....
and answer me that question
As I turn and head down her
my shoulder brushing her impossible
I'd regret I say to myself ...