I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral
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About the photo: It's a so peaceful shot. I have to rest there.
I don't know if you have visited my added post of jan. 20. I would like that you could visit it.
I need to express this creativity somehow because work certainly doesn't do it!
I was the cheif interview on the main story on the news last week, does that count?
I agree with Miles. 900 makes my 205 look like absolutely nothing.
Congrats.
I can really picture myself sitting on that seat and just enjoying the serenity of the place. It truly does seem like 'a seat at the edge of the world'.
That said, Errol Flynn did learn to swim there...
And I L-O-V-E Errol Flynn!!!!!!!!!!!
I think that it must be something in the Tasmanian water and fresh air...
But I do know a few Victorian males from the past, who would be wise to avail themselves of the qualities of the Tasmanian air and water, if that indeed is the outcome!!???