And then there were three

Are you reading this Jay, in some random distant service station? in your new home? or on the road?

Jay left with the dawn today.

It is nine:ten am and Ess, Tea and I have been awake five hours now. It's strange to think of it that way. We've woken, driven, eaten, juiced, said goodbye (perhaps not in that order) and now drift about Ess's house in a state of slightly heavy wakefulness.

I sit on a tartan sofa chair. Tea reads beside me. The sound of the shower has stopped in the background, but Ess has not yet returned.

I have the feeling Tea's eyes are straying to this as I type, for she has a tendency to do that, but I avoid her eyes as if they aren't. It's sort of like a game. An invisible, silent game.

I imagine Jay on the road. I think she would be asleep. I wonder if it's sunnier there, if the morning light peels back around the car, as if summer were still behaving like summer; because it is still wet here, even if the rain has stopped for a while.

Ess has returned. She is tidying up the kitchen. Apart from the clatter of plates and cups, it is comfortably silent.

For breakfast, we had fresh porridge with banana and honey, and fresh tea Ess brewed from the apple-mint leaves in her garden, poured from a small brown teapot.

We also juiced some apples and berries, and the pulp lies piled in a container on the bench, all yellow and purpley-blue and red, like a mess of watercolour, while we muse over what to do with it. I think we're going to make a slice.


As Jay pulled away from her house, Ess and I ran after the car for a few seconds, our shoes slapping against the wet road. Our feet stopped but our arms continued waving, and as the car rounded the corner I said softly to Ess - "And things'll never be the same again."

Our thoughts are still with you Jay, and we hope everything's wonderful, no matter how intimidating it may be. I caution you not to rearrange your room too much - your flat mates might think you have OCD. I hope you have a good window in your room, and that the view is alright. I really can't imagine what it's like.


The last few days have been very...tumultous. Very draining. There has been alot to think about and alot to deal with. It's as if the weather anticipated this, and lowered a blanket of rain around us, confining us inside physcial, mental and emotional walls. It's time to think, Indi, whispers the rain, time to know and time to work things out. Time to grow. It's voice is all a hush, its breath cold in my ear, on my soul. But it is encouraging, and persistent, and it thrums softly: Time to grow. I will cleanse you.

The sun hovers somewhere beyond the clouds, nestled in silver linings, and it comes soon. I hope it shines through Jay's window, and warms her, and lets her know, for the umpteenth time, that it is all okay.

Everything is okay and good.


There is a cardinal sort of magic to all this. If cardinal is the right word. From the East we are splitting: Me North, Jay West, and Ess and Tea to the South. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. We are four distinct entities, but we are irrevocably, intrinsically connected. We inspire, support and nourish each other. It's nice.

And that's all I really have to write for now. So, all our love, Jay, and take lots of pictures so I may live vicariously in Canberra through you!