Rare. But true.
Everywhere I went in Cooktown,
Guugu Yimithirr country,
there were mango trees 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 detest mangoes...
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.
Small towns are in your face
Sometimes it sucked
I liked being twelve
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 was swimming in the sea before school, cycling to fresh rivers and walking through swamps with crocodiles. Pretty much every day, me and my friends sat on a bench on the main street, making up stories, just like these.