21 January 2012

The young brown horse comes to the fence, for company or curiosity. He and we forage together for a moment – he, rather more successfully. We have come a couple of weeks too late, but passing through the rich aroma of the forest, the verdant hills, the chimes of bellbirds, the steady din of cicadas, and with your smile, your voice, your welcome arms, we leave the day lacking little.

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