Happy Birthday, John!

It was an immersion into Dream Time; the time that flows slowly like a thickened drink that both cools and heats at the same time. The moments passed slowly and were full of the richness that comes with full attention and focus on the minutiae of each sound, each sight, each flicker of the scented bush being bothered by a passing breeze. It was being languid, yet alert; but most importantly, it was being together with friends and family sharing the same Dream Time.

And the sky was filled with the most amazing clouds draping themselves across a landscape bleached with sun and wind. The old windmill stood guard high up on the stone beach, a sentry overlooking the North Sea and all of its history.

He felt as though he were in a film, playing a small part that was nonetheless essential to the story being told. The sun was warm and welcomed after a week of rain; the wind cooling. His part was to walk across the concrete landing attracting the attention of the woman star. The camera would act as the woman's eye; his breathe would act as her heart.

Stumble It!