Claire Wildish: February 2017

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Who am I?

I lie awake at night listening to the possum running across my roof while my little boys are sleeping, I walk through the dark night of the house, listening to the quiet and watching the moon. This is the time when stories and pictures are made inside my head. I scribble them on the back of phone bills and toilet paper because if I don’t, they disappear into the night.

For five years I lived in the middle of the desert where the dirt is red, the sun is hot and the stars are always bright. Now I am living in the middle of the city where cars go fast and people go faster. As I travel through these lands I collect pieces of places and stories of the people I meet. They feed my brain, drive my pen and argue with my computer and then I paste them all together again.

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