Death of William Robinson - Vale WR

An event can bring back memories but I can go to the blog and find things. I remember about 10 years ago, maybe more, an old girlfriend contacted me. I was living in Queensland at the time. I had gone back to writing poetry. Just prior to this I stopped pitching stories to magazines, for a number of reasons. Some of the reasons were good. Well, all of the reasons were good.

It was the end of the year when I drove to Brisbane to meet this girl. 

Just note that the seasons are a bit different in the north. Well she had been staying with a friend she said. The apartment was on the river. On the wall a painting by Wm Robinson. We sat on the balcony with the muddy river slow nearby like Lethe.

This montage I had completely forgotten about. It was made not long before meeting the woman in Brisbane. Oh ok it was some months before. At around the time I made this I had just finished a long poem on relationships. My daughter came out to see me. We went to the zoo, the Irwin zoo it was not far from my apartment. The following year I would go to see her.

This montage I have no memory of making. None at all. So what I am doing writing this post is to take a look back perhaps to find the moment the montage began or else just to run my hands over the Braille of forgettting. Whatever. I am just drawn to this sort of activity, it is like a compulsion. If it's healthy or not I am not qualified to say. Who else could be? Don't ask. As for the montage it was made using photos from a period in the past. 

I mean in the past compared to a a decade ago. Even further back than a decade in fact. Quite a considerable way back into the past though not too long in terms of my lived experience. A long way back, something like seven years. Is that a long way.

The title of the montage is 'Motorway in the afternoon'.

To cut things short there is now - when I think about it - a reason why that retrospective glance happened. It happened for a reason. If I want I can go to the blog I made for 18 years. The blog's like a diary. It's all out there. You can read it, I can read it.

Anyone can read it.

The montage talks about movement. The cars on the road. The blurry piece of a woman walking on the street. Going from one place to another, glancing back in time. The death of the Australian painter the spur to a shift, so I look back and in looking back what do I feel? What emotions are there. Are there any emotions at all. Perhaps I just observe. Take note. Put a bookmark in history.

Turn the page.