Professional Historian and History Consultancy Services Brisbane
ID 102524776 © Dmytro Tolokonov | Dreamstime.com ‘The dream,’ says Bergson, ‘consists of the entire mental life minus the tension, the effort and the bodily movement’ (Dreams 27). Dreamers, artists, the contemplative ones are all more or less like the dying, disinterested ‘visionaries’. The being that dreams and, at the highest level, the…
In Love of Ruth At the entry of the Great Court Where the Women’s Fountain Splashed in refreshing water, I paused with my load Of books. I saw empty new benches On the late Saturday afternoon. I turn to exit and The emotions overcame. The lost-ness of the Past. It was Lady Nostalgia Spring…
I am nothing, No existence, Although once. Remains of ash, but not I. Memory, but not existence, Carries my impression upon on the world. I have no voice, But only voice given by The historian. I am dead, You are alive.
Image: ID 44055351 © Ysbrand | Dreamstime.com This is how my daytime ended, driving over the high rise of Kessels Road, Robertson, looking out across western Brisbane to the mountain ranges which hid the Brisbane upriver valleys. Coopers Plains below, flat and open space, splashed in pinkish tones. In the car descending down towards Orange Grove…
Image: ID 35109186 © Efired | Dreamstime.com I lift my eyes off the page, siting in the shade of the bakery. Cast my eyes to the blue sky. The horizon of my childhood and youth. A single palm tree top appeared high above the shop lined roof. I feeling the soft cool of the…
Saturday late morning, and I am trying to catch up with some serious philosophical notation of Jack McKinney’s last book. He died in 1966, and his book was published by his lover-partner-wife in 1971. We were aged 5 years, and 10 years, respectively in that time of life. I cannot work any longer. I…
Viewer warning: material contains tough reflections on life and death. Unsuitable for sensitive souls, those momentary in ‘a bad place’, and children (as a guide under the age of 12 years of age). I had these thoughts and feeling some time ago, and I recorded them to post later. One must add that these…
the touch that does not feel, the voice that is not…
Frequently, these many years, I say or think to myself, “My life is over”. On its appearance that makes no sense. What I am doing is really asking myself a question, “In a teleological sense, is my life over”? Have I reached a point where I will no longer be able to reach the success…
1 December 2018, just before 5.00 a.m AEST In a dream from which I would awake, a setting of a carnival, something crossed by the Brisbane Ekka and an American state fair, nothing familiar, only great lights in the night. In the distance I saw Ruth was sitting with family. It was as…