Mermaid
She looked like a mermaid with her sun bleached wild wavy hair and seemed like a wild flower growing through the dusted plains of the world.
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I didn’t know her much, just as much as a hello and how are you.
She wrote vivid and decoratively over the year of her 33rd birthday and travelled to the pacific islands to swim with whales and she would paint their pictures while listening to their underwater songs at her mother’s home in southern New Zealand. In the winter she went back to her childhood home in America, travelling the wild paths near deserts where her aunts and uncles live, diving through their old books, cuddling their cats and pondering their different flora and cactus in their gardens. She had just written a memoir of sorts, about her life in her own words. She had just lost her dear father and broken up with her boyfriend of over ten years. She was looking for her life and how to be.
I knew her when we were both 19 years old at art school, she came to study in the class I was in. She was beautiful with sun tanned skin, near blond hair and an exotic American accent. She met her older boyfriend then, he was a wild boy of about 22, always spoke about anarchy and smoked marijuana with his less anarchist friends. He had been admired by another girl I knew, she seemed revere him, he returned her unkind words and unpleasant looks.
