Apolonia Cacadu (her family is calling her: Polly) is a working girl. Very hard working. During the day, she works part time in three different places, and in the evenings she professionally swings on a swing above the bar counter, in the "Under parrots" pub. Because of this constant running around the city, there is little time for her to eat, and often her daily meal is just a handful of crackers (which she loves) and a few green olives with pepper. That’s why her weight is rather featherlike. She dreams about a trip to the Amazon rainforest and spreading her wings as a dancer (she’s great at dance hall and twerking).
A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming
It seems I am always seeking a place to sit—
not just to rest the body,
but to settle the soul.
Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper:
“The quickest way to old age
is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.”
So I do not stay long.
I walked until I found a picnic table
beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees,
branches like open hands waiting for green.
The blue spruces nearby—
stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure.
I sketched.
Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise.
Just a mark to say: I was here.
Alive in this in-between.
Waiting. Listening.
Not for leaves—
but for something truer than comfort.
Thank you for joining me in this small noticing.
A moment borrowed from the rush.
A table. A tree. A thought.
A gift.
