A daily Dili dose of dopamine.

1. Working quietly and alone, upstairs at Black Box, steady on a Monday morning
2. Crisp local cucumbers ready for pickling in a pink plastic bowl
3. New-to-me Tetun idioms; that fickle guy’s an ai-kakeu, the tree that moves with the wind
4. Taking selfies with the chic dressed-up women in the orange office
5. The bruised sky opening relief after days and dusty days without rain
6. Kind and unexpected emails from strangers at the beach
7. Giving things away
8. Goodnight Bull Creek, you were the, world to me
9. $1.50 beers barefoot in the courtyard
10. Late Monday nights and dreaming of sourdough
11. Good news from good friends; secrets kept and shared and bottled up tight
12. My new, orange, USB, and the way I got it
13. Today’s cool morning air and a coffee on the porch
14. Not being scared of starting to pack
15. I can’t do this but I’m doing it anyway
16. Pale blue spines of yet-unread books
17. A crisp, efficient, 28-minute interview; I think I can actually do this
18. New plans with new friends; impatient for days to come
19. 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.