From the Blog
Sometimes contentment looks less like a mountaineer’s milestone,Or an earmarked achievement dressed up in your best new clothes,The end result of all the things you thought you ever wanted….And more like a secondhand curbside-found round tableAnd a last-minute late lunch on a cloudy Sydney wintry afternoon
Before there was me there was my older brother Greg. Gregory David van der Kwaak. Or simply GVDK, as he was often known. Greg was, among other things (and there were many) a poet. Like many people of gifting, he started creating young. When Greg died in a car accident aged 22 he left in his wake a trail of grief the size of continents, and literally hundreds of people stumbling around in the darkness trying to stay upright his absence. But he also left behind something else. His words.
And he is everywhere but where he should be, Images of his poor kid-body washed up on the beach like seaweed seared across our screens.
Sometimes contentment looks less like a mountaineer’s milestone,Or an earmarked achievement dressed up in your best new clothes,The end result of all the things you thought you ever wanted….And more like a secondhand curbside-found round tableAnd a last-minute late lunch on a cloudy Sydney wintry afternoon
Before there was me there was my older brother Greg. Gregory David van der Kwaak. Or simply GVDK, as he was often known. Greg was, among other things (and there were many) a poet. Like many people of gifting, he started creating young. When Greg died in a car accident aged 22 he left in his wake a trail of grief the size of continents, and literally hundreds of people stumbling around in the darkness trying to stay upright his absence. But he also left behind something else. His words.
And he is everywhere but where he should be, Images of his poor kid-body washed up on the beach like seaweed seared across our screens.
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