Turner is a young Australian soldier, a signalman in the AIF, who's joined the army in search of adventure overseas. Katya is a beautiful Croatian opera singer moonlighting as a chanteuse. A wartime... More > romance blossoms. However even as it starts, it seems doomed.
After the war, Turner tracks her down.
But even together they are worlds apart. This is not a relationship that follows normal rules and over the next decade they find themselves on different continents, intermittently trying to find a way to live together, but never successfully.
For years they do not see each other. Turner does not know why he’s been cast out of her life, and his requests for an explanation go unanswered.
Finally he packs his bags for New York to find out.< Less
Turner is a young Australian soldier, a signalman in the AIF, who's joined the army in search of adventure overseas. Katya is a beautiful Croatian opera singer moonlighting as a chanteuse. A wartime... More > romance blossoms. However even as it starts, it seems doomed.
After the war, Turner tracks her down.
But even together they are worlds apart. This is not a relationship that follows normal rules and over the next decade they find themselves on different continents, intermittently trying to find a way to live together, but never successfully.
For years they do not see each other. Turner does not know why he’s been cast out of her life, and his requests for an explanation go unanswered.
Finally he packs his bags for New York to find out.< Less
A compilation of poetry that I've written over the years. Begins with:
My pen scribbles intently as I rush to get the abstract ideas flow from my head, down my arm, and onto my paper. It is 12am and... More > my mind has not turned off from the day’s work and stresses. I am sitting up on my bed with my notebook and pen in my hand. My world turns from one of reality into a completely eccentric third world in which there are ducks with nose rings, and sushi with nails. I let myself venture into this unknown place of ideas and abstract thoughts. Colors are distorted, images concealed, smells turn into people, and light becomes sin. I write, and write, and write, suddenly able to see the image of what I have written. It is no longer a mead notebook and bic pen, but it is a moonlight drifting in a sea of peach blossoms and a plum moon...< Less
