Advance Party
The osprey hovered over the site each morning. The forces stirred. He was at a loss how to deal with any of it. The Iran War began in the Middle East, and how any of it would end was anybody's guess. We, that is Australians, were being fed bullshit at scale, at a massive scale, and the silence that made them weep, the peregrine falcons that would hover over that same site, they, at least, were clear in their intent. While the osprey, four of them now, the parents who had hatched their young out on that pier and now swept above with their offspring, as if all our flying dreams were hatched from despair, because how would you feel, having seen so many dreams and flights of fancy crash land on this barren plain, the one that ran behind our eyes as we exchanged banalities at the dog park. And the osprey soared above. He was welcomed by the victimhood, or the sisterhood, Paul, the editor at the local paper was moving on to a job as press officer for the Kiama Council, and his own rout...