He realised afterwards that it was best not to read emails that were not meant for him – emails that were about him rather than for him.
It had been useful to get forwarded the email about Anne’s requests regarding the cover of her book – not so useful that that email included a whole thread of earlier discussion about the matter by other people, people that he thought – had thought – respected him.
The wooden bridge over Oruarangi awa was the gateway to a better place. As Anthony crossed, a matuku moana rose from the railing of the bridge with slow flapping wings and a prehistoric call.
This was where the stream met the harbour. Rarely had he seen the tide so full. The water was entirely still, silvery like mercury, seeming thick and viscous as if the invisible Moon stretched it to its maximum. On the other side, he ran, high stepping through the long grass, around the slopes of the two maunga, past the spring to the field where the herd grazed.
Glennis: PS Between you and me only, I think many of the new colours clash and are very OTT. Is there any chance of getting an actual designer or two to make some suggestions?
Andrea: I myself have encountered a few grumbles with the typesetters (yes they are set in their ways) but with a few nudges they give in eventually.
Baby Siegfried lifted his milky nose from nursing and the forty individuals of the herd walked over to greet Anthony. He sang for them. Two of the mother cows nuzzled at him. He waved them goodbye and headed back, past the kaitiaki village, down the line of pines to bittern swamp and back along the coastal track to the bridge.
The tide had turned and poured in swirling, muscled flows, powerful and relentless, seaward.
It had been useful to get forwarded the email about Anne’s requests regarding the cover of her book – not so useful that that email included a whole thread of earlier discussion about the matter by other people, people that he thought – had thought – respected him.
The wooden bridge over Oruarangi awa was the gateway to a better place. As Anthony crossed, a matuku moana rose from the railing of the bridge with slow flapping wings and a prehistoric call.
This was where the stream met the harbour. Rarely had he seen the tide so full. The water was entirely still, silvery like mercury, seeming thick and viscous as if the invisible Moon stretched it to its maximum. On the other side, he ran, high stepping through the long grass, around the slopes of the two maunga, past the spring to the field where the herd grazed.
Glennis: PS Between you and me only, I think many of the new colours clash and are very OTT. Is there any chance of getting an actual designer or two to make some suggestions?
Andrea: I myself have encountered a few grumbles with the typesetters (yes they are set in their ways) but with a few nudges they give in eventually.
Baby Siegfried lifted his milky nose from nursing and the forty individuals of the herd walked over to greet Anthony. He sang for them. Two of the mother cows nuzzled at him. He waved them goodbye and headed back, past the kaitiaki village, down the line of pines to bittern swamp and back along the coastal track to the bridge.
The tide had turned and poured in swirling, muscled flows, powerful and relentless, seaward.
Barnaby McBryde
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