A daily Dili dose of dopamine.
- Working quietly and alone, upstairs at Black Box, steady on a Monday morning
- Crisp local cucumbers ready for pickling in a pink plastic bowl
- New-to-me Tetun idioms; that fickle guy’s an ai-kakeu, the tree that moves with the wind
- Taking selfies with the chic dressed-up women in the orange office
- The bruised sky opening relief after days and dusty days without rain
- Kind and unexpected emails from strangers at the beach
- Giving things away
- Goodnight Bull Creek, you were the, world to me
- $1.50 beers barefoot in the courtyard
- Late Monday nights and dreaming of sourdough
- Good news from good friends; secrets kept and shared and bottled up tight
- My new, orange, USB, and the way I got it
- Today’s cool morning air and a coffee on the porch
- Not being scared of starting to pack
- I can’t do this but I’m doing it anyway
- Pale blue spines of yet-unread books
- A crisp, efficient, 28-minute interview; I think I can actually do this
- New plans with new friends; impatient for days to come
- Sitting quietly this morning, WordPress open, a blinking cursor and a sense of contentedness.
The photo at the top of this post is the Comoro River, flowing wet-season full a couple of weeks ago. Without labouring the point too much, one of the single greatest lessons I’ve learned living in the tropics is from the wet-season rain patterns–even when it feel oppressively hot, overwhelming, all too much, you can’t do it, the rain always comes; washes clean, starts again. The rain always comes.
Leave a Reply