The Fix

It was early in the year, before the onset of spring. As simple a day as any other, with the sun low and distant. It gave plenty of clear, bright light to see by but little warmth to your cheeks, so you wore thick winter jumpers made of wool. What a strange pair you made, […]

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Day Twelve

It’s the hottest day so far and were are trussed up in full body life preservers. Fortunately, by the time the boat gets up to speed the breeze cools us down. And then we idle. A black fin rises from the water, sinks back in. Silence. Minutes pass. Again. This time a great spray of […]

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Day Twelve

We soon realised why they call it The Grind. By the quarter way mark I find I am dripping high and low. “You’ve done the hardest part, it gets easier from here.” A man says, passing us by, more or less skipping his way up. His grey hair appears silvery, glistening with sweat. He’s right […]

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Day Ten

Excessively bright weather. The park we skirted by bike last week, today we investigated by foot. Through its interior: lofty pines above us and ferns below. It wasn’t long before we were back in the city, among the bustle of cars and buildings rising high above us.

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Day Nine

The day felt undefinable. I don’t like saying that. Hemingway would hate that; defining something by a negative. It might be better to say the day was: obtuse, it lacked in definition, in form.

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Day Eight

A seaplane soared overhead, looking like it might not make it, that the approach is too shallow. But it skims the surface, skips and pulls in to a full stop. Wild geese again, this time amongst the guts of an old gas works, painted in a cacophony of colours.

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Day Seven

New day, new city. You can see similarities, even though the differences are immediate and striking: the height, the size. It feels a little more grown up, in a way.

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