I detest mangoes...
Rare, but true. Everywhere I went in Cooktown,
Guugu Yimithirr country, there were mango trees
dripping with the fruit and soft, squishy mangoes
covering the ground. I did what any self-respecting
kid would do, and I picked them up and threw
them at my friends.
I hung out with pig shooters... religious fundamentalists
....conservatives...hippies....kids from farms....
kids who grew up on missions......
and kids who didn't.
They know your business and
you know theirs.
Everyone is in your face.
are in your face
Sometimes it sucked
Evil step-fathers threw out their teenage step-kids, young teenagers had nothing to do except have babies. Alcoholics beat their wives. Friends often didn't have enough food for breakfast.
I liked being 12 because....
I was sitting in our caravan in the back yard. It was a sunny afternoon (by night there were frogs and toads croaking, but now it was quiet) and suddenly, out of nowhere, like frog's croak, a poem popped into my head.
Since then, I follow the images in my head. If you like telling stories, you should
I was swimming in the sea before school. I cycled to fresh rivers and walked through swamps with crocodiles living in them. I snorkelled the Great Barrier reef, skied over crocs in the harbour, and camped out on the rocks.
Pretty much every day, me and my friends sat on a bench on the main street, making up stories.