all the trees are green

Mattie

Just wanted you to know all the trees are green. Woke up one day and Sydney went from dry cinnamon bister-brick leaflessness to a bosky verdurous fringed botanic mass of foliage. Over one night.

And it is so beautiful it hurts.

That you just left us, and aren't here to know this, makes everything suddenly seem sharper. Its become so clear just how ballsy and ungoverned Spring is - everything stemmed and trunked and tendrilled, everything blossoming so rudely, everything flowerets and buds, this week, this sad week. The week you died.

And here I sit in a towered edifice amongst it. All this city wild. All this natural coarse. All this perfect birth. It might be the closest thing we have to God. So today at lunchtime while you are being put to rest in Lae I am going to lie under cover of a big fat awful tree in Circular Quay and try not to cry.