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To begin, I am god. Tomorrow, things will be different, thus ends the prophet’s task.

I, am adapting to this new life without Terence, I think, what I find most daunting about it is that it’s not like he’s going away to come back, it’s a forever thing, and it means the further along I go in life without him, the more distant he becomes, my memories of him will fail me, slowly, and I don’t like that at the moment, with Fiona it was because, if I don’t remember her who will? Nobody I know, there’s no one I can rely on to do that, I have to do it myself, it’s my responsibility. I am looking forward to getting that bench put into Centennial Park in dedication to Terence, it’s quite amazing how much of my life has gone on in that park, on McCool’s Rocks, which is what we call it Terence and I would fly kites, throw gliders he would make, and play around, of course Terence was being a bastard and really I was just there to run and get the glider to bring it back so he could throw it again, since I never had any interested in Kites or Gliders, Terence loved them, he was fascinated with flight, so most birthday’s and Christmas’s I would get a kite or a glider or a rocket or something, nobody has ever hated a kite the way I do, as Darwin would put it. But still, so if we donate a sum of money to the park they’ll buy a bench and we can have it dedicated to him, which is nice, because right next to McCool’s rock in the pine forest, where I met Fiona, where I knew Fiona, sometimes I wonder how something so brief had such a big impact on my life, but it’s not everyday you get your hubris highlighted by something devastating. Thinking I could help anyone, proud of it, when the girl in front of me was suffering something I didn’t even sense, I was just so boyish, talking and bragging trying to impress her, the way boys do, it’s silly really, but you want the girl you love to think you’re cool, it’s important to boys, even though none of us are, we’re all lame, and that’s fine.

When I was younger, under 10 I reckon, I was flying kites with Terence and I found a dead possum in the pine tree forest, as did another kid with me, a girl, we decided to bury it so she and I bug a hole at the base of a tree, which we did. Funny to hold onto that memory, sometimes I wonder if it was Fiona. Doubt it though.

My park is a beautiful place, it really is, it’s more home than home is, on rainy afternoons, it’s nice to go for a walk, passing beneath the big trees, the grass, the lakes and high banks, the jetties into the lake which allow you to see tortoises floating at the top of the pond, breathing, into a small canopy of trees and old stones from various structures growing moss and fungi, balancing atop the felled trees as I walk their length, out then into the field, this huge vast expanse for miles and miles, I love a big sky, over to the Pine Cone forest to pick a cone, and to stand atop the trunks of felled trees, Terence told me when I was a young boy that the energy from the tree is still there even if the tree trunk isn’t, so if I stand ontop of the stump I’ll received the energy that would normally go to the tree, and whenever I do, my calves tingle, I know it’s all in my mind, but they still do. I stay and talk a while, how people are and what they are doing, anything interesting, as I lie upright against the tree that shaded us, the bench now sadly gone.