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Dave and Kathy meet a fly in Wanaka

Jane Blaikie


I think not being able to talk has taken me back to the state of
humans before they invented the alphabet, before they started
abstracting themselves. Everything seems alive and a kindred
spirit. –
Dave Kent

So I’m at this picnic table right, and this campervan pulls up. Coupla rubberneckers, pretty tidy but not too bad. The old guy’s sick so a few dribbles and spills – all good for a suck. I’m suckin’ it up baby, and the door slams. Trapped. Off we go. I park up by a window, waiting for The Swat, hoping for an opening and a getaway. He’s looking at me. I’m looking at him. Hours later she reaches over, driving all the time, with The Swat. He’s waving his arm. Blocks The Swat. Writes – writes in a notebook. Looks like this – We picked it up in Wanaka, it’s my ambition to take it all the way to Christchurch. Nice town. What’s with the rubble.


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