Old friends, lights and kitchens

I have an early tea with Kritara who has stored my round window and looked after one of my paintings. She's currently homeless and house sitting. Considering next moves and maybe going home to Germany for a while. Although I'm officially homeless, I can watch my new home rise from the ground. Kritara, on the other hand, has some big decisions to make about security; where to put down roots first of all. Back in the car there's a story on the radio about the extreme plight of Syrian refugees on a Greek island. Babies in the refugee camps who don't smile or register emotion. I encountered a refugee camp in the desert of Southern Yemen in the 1990's and was struck by how wind swept, bare and forlorn it was. The car I was travelling in had stopped at a tea house for a break and a young man from the camp came engaged my boyfriend and I in conversation. He had nothing and spoke about getting out of the camp. I could do little but gave him some clothing. The people in the camp were political refugees from Ethiopia and had nothing. Today a young New Zealand woman is making an appeal on the radio for tents, starting with those left behind at music festivals. She is palpably upset by what she experienced at the camp in Greece. We have so much we carelessly discard, they are living in abject misery. How different our worlds are.
I meet an old university friend I was bridesmaid for in Australia years ago. She lives in Taree, east New South Wales, and the bush fires came worryingly close. We visit the building site then chat over lunch. The years slip away.
My next meeting is at Lighthouse, a fabulous lighting store where I bought lights while waiting for the house design. Today I'm welcomed as an old friend by Finlay and Alan, and sit down to discuss lighting details. Pre-wiring is next. Hmmmm.
Evening and I have another kitchen session with Nicki. We're scrolling through internet options for a kitchen bench top. Just as I'm about to give up, a piece of Avocatus draws simultaneous ah's. It's Quartzite from Brazil, has green and black shading with white shapes which look like flying seagulls suggesting movement and freedom. This is it. Yawning, I drive home to feed the cat in the dark, hoping to see him. I call and call but the garden is still and quiet.

Lighthouse on Moorhouse