Gliding across the smokey wooden floor where we tangled one Christmas eve - under influence - your pop rocks. And you saw me in my beauty as brother. How profound - it brings tears to my eyes. And what else? The grief, your grief as I sob just a teaspoon of your draught - your long gone woe and sorrow. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. What begs at your door trying to get in? What longing fills your soul that you are not paying attention to? All the doors seem locked - but this is your life, not mine - your experience - your grief, not mine. I pull up a chair in this god smokey house. It smells like what Pop would have said a death camp. I left beef bones on high for hours and came home to a smoked out bone house. It reeks and fuck, my kids are going to hate it. Dead things burnt hard. Thats the smell - all up in here - all up in my face - just like life - up in my face saying - here, here, here! See me? See me? SEE ME!? Well I do old friend! Slap on the back and a laugh as I remember the painful memories that are now more funny than sore. There is a soreness that has left me - maybe some deep healing - maybe lots of tears, maybe a bit more letting go and letting life. Maybe a calm patch in my soul as I try to get out of the way of truth - what wants to get in and make its home here? I saw a hedgehog shuffling late last night - the cutest animal in the way it moves. Like it’s saying: “Nothing to see here” as it desperately tries to find foliage to hide. But oh how beautiful and gorgeous you are - you waggly, spiny creature - who are you? My great, great, great, great uncle from France? Come to humour me on a new moon eve. Thanks uncle - I see you - love you - just like the wild, cold, clear waters of Kāpiti this morning. Couldn't find the moon so I swum out beyond my moors to feel something of depth - something of stepping out into an unknown - into a new day that greets me like the best friend I thought I never had.