The Sea, The Sea

I'm sitting on the trunk of a tree, an abandoned piece of timber that looks rough. A tree's life has secrets of its own, untold. I close my eyes, listen to the constant movement. I open up my eyelids and absorb the waves and the froth. There is something reassuring about the sea, it lies in … Continue reading The Sea, The Sea


A poetic encounter in Port Douglas

  The month of March was hot, humid in Port Douglas. As we say in French, it was "heavy", which could only mean one thing, there would be rain within the next few days. I found shelter from the heat of the sun under a little hut, there was a table with two benches, probably for … Continue reading A poetic encounter in Port Douglas