Blue smoke goes drifting by into the deep blue sky. My memories of home will never die.
It's Pixie Williams on the radio. A New Zealand folk singer.
I feel for a moment that I've slipped back in time.
The next song is also weird and unknown - how tutors and gods aren't supposed to feel the trees and dance around the world. Or so we think. In the end they are dancing and seeing all the world. I'm not sure what sort of odd run this station is on. Each song that comes on is as different as it could be from the previous one.
I had no idea where I was when I woke up this morning. (Again.) For almost six months, this has been a common first thought of the day. It's is one of the odd bits of travel. Different houses, hostels, beds every night. Maybe I like the confusion.