12/09/2026
The day begins without asking to be witnessed.
Light arrives slowly—
touching what was there all along.
Tea made by hand.
A small ritual in paying attention.
Morning opens out.
At the edge of the Yuraygir,
The day feels different—
held by salt, stillness, and horizon.
By midday, there is nowhere to be.
Only ocean in the distance,
and whatever the day asks for.
Afternoon light moves differently here.
Across the horizon, through the trees,
Softening everything it touches.
A quick ocean swim.
An outdoor shower.
A little return to yourself, under the open sky.
The evening.
A drink poured.
Night arriving quietly.
