grounded

I used to find that I often would be struck by the muse while driving. I don't drive these days. Which is incomprehensibly weird. People often ask what I've seen of OZ. Not much. I don't have a car.
In my imagination from a child, gifted to me by my parents and my culture, the auto-mobile was freedom and escape. It was vacation and adventure and exploration. It was privacy of the highest order. It was my handbag, my toolbox, my zoo.
When we arrived in NZ, I promptly decided that Chris and I must buy wheels. He was only partly into the idea.
I fell in love with the heap of washed out red station wagon and took about 20 pictures of it.

I left Rosalita in NZ with Chris. The universe sent a thief to break into the thing days before I left, leaving him to fix the thing before the new WOF was due. Sometimes the Fates intervene when I cannot be passive aggressive or vengeful. Little gifts.

I want to see Australia. But the possibilities never enter my mind. I have no wheels. Oz will likely be a landing/launching pad for me. I will live here for many months and never know the place, never hear it's heart beat, never experience it's song. And it's sad for both of us. Someone must know that it's best I don't get too attached at this point. And I can hardly put my feet on earth and not love it.