I use my dreams to disappear in, conceal my brooding truths, and pretend to live between realities— here is the story of last night’s dream. She says to me, consider the statue of David Greybeard, overlooking the Yarra River, the fish shimmering of mercury, effervescent green lawns. I say, oh, beautiful, beautiful, Greybeard’s open hand—their ...

Sitting here at the window, staring up at the stars, how they sparkle in the night sky like diamonds. It makes one reflect on life and regrets. Do I have regrets? Yes, but I learned from those regrets. Who would have known the signs were there when I was a child? It is possible, but ...