Sydney, 1943, Labrador, 1954

Sydney, 1943
Labrador, 1954

Her hair shawn like a ladies should. But not like a lady out for
dinner with a suitor from overseas, though this lady would be a fine
candidate for that too. But thee says her hair took to shining upnder
a hat of duty to empire and country. It did sneak out from time to
time, but those moments, befitting of the time, were kept more
private, or at least closed, and smober in nature. There was a
definite sense that things with the lady were on the right track, but
with so many miles left to travel, best not to test the fortunes of war.

Half a world away he lay in the soft moss, overlooking one of the more
rugged coastlines yet seen by man. But this was his place, and a fine
place for a man and his dog. At least in the too short summer months,
with their too long summe'rs days. The only thing lackin from this
place for a man of ambition was someone, anyone, to share it with. A
few years earlier, before their decline, the Germans had paid a visit
here. Some of the men from the village had seen them. One even claimed
to have had a shot from half a mile away, but in the telling of his
story, usually over a few pints, left plenty to doubt. But still, this
place was as rugged and as strong as the features chisled into the
faces of the people that lived in this place. Both the land and the
faces worn down by the salt water and the salt air, and the deep
winters of inhuman proportions.

---
George Dyke