After having moved to Melbourne, I decided it was time to visit my old friend Kipley in Brisbane again. At that time she lived in a trailer at the back of her mother's cabin, in the Brisbane hills.
She'd always had a thing for animals and now that she was in the "country" she had quite a collection of dogs, rats, chooks and things. She'd gone ferral: her hair was matted and if you got close enough, you could see bits of matter and twigs stuck inside her dreadlocks. I don't believe she ever washed it or cut it ever since I last saw her - a few years back.
Anyway, a part from the hair she was her usual self, cheerful, disorderly in a la-di-dah kind of way, pale, and skinny as a sun-bleached bone. But she didn't look healthy. The delicate porcelain sin on her cheeks was inflamed with pimples and I suspect she wasn't eating enough.
She told me about spending her days running around the paddoks, looking for mushrooms then invited me to stay the night. I did - but only out of sympathy - for deep down I knew this was going to be my last visit.
She spent the night in her mom's cabin, granting me the use and privacy of her trailer. I remember lying on a blanket on the couch and not even being horryfied at the numerous amounts of fleas jumping around the mattresse.
The next morning, after instant coffe and baked beans on toast, I gave Kip one of my crayon drawings, which she blue-taked to the wall of ther caravan.
