SUNDAY / 16

The street where I live, just after 6 AM on a Sunday. Quiet, clear light like you only get at that hour, a burst of golden from the street light and not a soul.

I went to a three hour intensive yoga class with Ana Forrest, a Native American warrior of a woman who teaches and practices yoga in an intensely emotional and healing way. Quite a start to the day. Between the meditation, the chanting, the dance and some amazingly strong inversions, I kind of came alive. I'd been carrying some hurt for a few weeks and my heart, the back of my heart, was aching away. She had us breathe into a part of ourselves for healing throughout, each pose drew us back to and then out of the emotion. And by the end of the three hours I felt good. Happy. Sweaty and smiling all the way home for a long shower.

I got a latte from Brickfields for the drive over the harbour and had a roast lunch with my family and my Nanna for Mother's Day. Custard fruit tart and old records in the afternoon...

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE.