I moved from the rice paddy fields 

today put everything 

into a hire jeep. I have more 

clutter than I care to 

acknowledge. 

Tying boxes together with scarves 

boots sticking out, books and journals

And photos

I load it all in the back of my hire 

car. One final look around, I kneel 

down to give the stray 

kitten an apologetic 

pat, then I lock the door. 

Bumping along the white gravel 

track: green on green and cigarette 

dreams to my new 

abode down the gang in 

Seminyak. The front yard; a 

Jungle. Three girls, two 

turtles and a bedroom in the tree

house. Adorned with paintings; old 

framed photos of the 

artist, I believe. 

My room was once an art 

studio. Photographs of her and 

postcards of Freda, some nudes 

and butterflies. I hang up some 

scarves. A mosquito net 

to the beam so it drapes just 

so. The wardrobe is heavy. In

there, are more paintings. Hidden 

under my clothes now; thrown 

haphazardly on top my 

Belts, some headscarves

clean undies amongst faded line 

drawings of broken 

children.