14 Comments
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Ashley M Graetz's avatar

Beautiful marriage of art and intellect

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Tara Black's avatar

I find your writing absorbing

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Claire Mabey's avatar

Love this Rosie. I have been missing spying his work on my runs. Always thought of them as signs of magic.

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Wendy Varley's avatar

A touching tribute to Stavros, his art, the ways your paths crossed and the beautiful place you live.

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Writer Pilgrim by So Elite's avatar

Beautiful tribute and my condolences to family and friends of Stavros. RIP Stavros

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Janet Findlay's avatar

Wonderful Rosie...can't sleep atm because of the full moon so very receptive to the moody evocativeness of this piece. You truly are a remarkable writer and thinker. I remember that little girl who used to drift through nature so feelingly/deeply/sensitively...it's my main memory of you xx

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Rosie Whinray's avatar

Thank you! Yes, I was thinking of that timing as well, just over half a moon cycle. After I published this, I turned on the radio: it was Robert Hass reading maybe seven or eight poems, which I loved. Afterwards I stood outside while it got dark, waiting for the moon to rise.

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CansaFis Foote's avatar

…beautiful start to stop, top to bottom to top again, thanks for such a detailed felt remembrance…

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Ben Fagan's avatar

Really beautiful, Rosie

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Bruce Mahalski's avatar

This is the best. You are so good! When is the book coming out!

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Mark Farrar's avatar

A great read thanks, I chatted briefly a few times with Stavros, always spotting him on the coast and around Island Bay, usually early in the mornings. Nice one Rosie

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Lidija P Nagulov's avatar

You made me cry. As ever your texts are about one thing but they make me think of everything. We should all be so lucky to have someone write like this about us when we go, to live lives that would make such writing possible.

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Rosie Whinray's avatar

Thanks friends, for your kind words.

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Bumblesquash Trimpledronque's avatar

Your writing always makes your habitat tangible in so many ways (reading this on a train to Belgrade and there’s this surreal feeling of how it’s 1AM over there, and the rocks and the logs and the spray come alive in my mindspace, and a part of me is transported to the other hemisphere, and specifically the part you know so well by virtue of constant, cyclical revisiting, and then I lift my head and see the fields outside, and a thick fog, and it’s trippy AF).

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