Unwilling to Pay


New Moon dreaming is often vivid and illuminating.

A man had broken into my Dad’s shop, a hardware store, as he needed some keys and locks. My Dad was across the street, sleeping..

Walking through a squatter camp. Wet, rainy and muddy underfoot. I pass wooden coffins propped beside shack doors and climb the hill out of the camp, where a woman is selling stuff from a stall. I pick up a little shell encrusted box, just like the one I had as a girl, and I smell the tiny vial of perfume I kept in it for a short while. The beautiful necklaces for sale are constructed of shells and small, exquisite gems. I ask the price and shake my head at the answer. It’s too much to ask of me…

My Mom walks beside me as we make our way out of the squatter camp and into the city mall. We look at another necklace – this one of rough stones in the shape of the Venus of Willendorf. I don’t want to pay the price for that one, either. Mom has on her another necklace of wooden beads. It was given to her, she says. As we walk into the city, the last question she asks me is”What do they call you?”


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