We hope to stumble across you one day again.
*hint: it’s a 2 digit number.
We hope to stumble across you one day again.
*hint: it’s a 2 digit number.
Two school children were selected by trust-friendly teachers while their class wandered a bit further on.
Then, a daughter did not want to enter.
After a good amount of cajoling by her mother, she agreed.
Delighted by her moment she even convinced a curious passer-by to be our next audience.
A concerned City of Mandurah workee was worried about getting us wet.
We talked a while and he found time for a moment.
A group of 19yr old boys approached. One is brave and indicated to his friends to be quiet.
His experience was passed on to them
“it was actually really good”
“really important for you guys”
“a changed man.”
Our heart swelled.
A japanese woman, her daughter and Momo the deaf blue heeler visited.
We have a chat about japan, and life here and moments.
A wise man in a 9 yr old’s body attended with his Mum.
He speaks with surety and insight. “Thank you. I really needed that moment” he tells me.
His mum, strong and warm turns to me later and
explains he’s a bit different to most kids – and thus home schooled. She was grateful for his moment too:
“It took me a while to realise how special I am.”
And our heart swelled for the second time.
A man spied and questioned what we were.
“Philosophical?” he asked.
Kind of, we said.
He walks away. Then with purpose returns.
He’s a thinker, we think.
And that’s the end of our time in Mandurah.
We’re gone. We’re done.
114 notes written.
Will always be there to be read.
Deciphered. Remembered. Reminded.
Thank you Mandurah.
A mother beelines her teen to have aMoment, having experienced it herself earlier this week. She’s off school to get her P-plates. A good day to we think.
Someone we have waved consistently to over the last 4 days finally stops.
“I just had to know what it is!” he explained.
This is also the case of a girl who has circled us a few times:
“Curiosity got the better of me” she says.
Another two ladies bring a friend along, their interest piqued on Sunday at Stretch Festival.
We and they are glad they returned.
“I set an alarm at 11am every day to remind myself to be grateful and say thanks”.
Autumn is here. You can see it in the leaves.
A baby waves them like wings while her parents each have their moment.
A girl with autism comes with her carer.
She wants her note to be private. We ensure it is.
Her carer is surprised she engaged so well.
We know it’s just about having a private space…or at least we think it is.
A woman in blue magnetised to the caravan.
She appeared in a reverie from the first note.
Today is for the curious.
Thank you curious ones.
May you always be.
A very quiet day.
A day of waves and smiles and conversations.
But few stopping.
Which always makes us a little sad.
Sad that people don’t have space in their lives to stop.
But it’s also the weather.
And, well, life.
We start the day with watching 7 pelicans flying above. So far yet still so big.
They are amazing birds.
The MPAC ducks are still there.
Just the two of them.
A lady shares an ice cream on a nearby bench. Then curiosity gets the better of her and she says hello. She types her note perched – experiencing the caravan despite a sore hip.
A mother and her 4yr old monster share a moment. He is truly brave to be only wearing a monster tee in this wind.
Two council friends in warm boots stop by. One forms tears. One talks of the Mandurah bridge. We love learning about Mandurah.
A to-be actress and her parents um and ah about entering but decide not.
We wave at 1, 2, 50, 100 people today.
The small moments keep us going.
A lot of space in the precinct without Stretch Festival.
A very quiet, different feel.
Only traces of hearts and detritus.
And with a little bit of cloud and wind, the caravan is positively a cosy retreat.
We began with an artist working with the homeless. Obviously a special soul, she thanked us through tears and noted how positive the notes are.
Visitors from Rockingham had a sweet moment (with byo ice cream) as they took turns.
A group of seven peeked and exclaimed with only one keen to enter.
A seagull poked around, scrounging for food we think.
And the two resident MPAC lake ducks flapped and snuggled throughout the day.
A curious couple decided to change their plans and stop. And we had an inner yay.
A returnee from the weekend came to record another moment.
Two ladies speaking german came to investigate, one deciding to enter just so that we didn’t look so lonely. (whatever works, we think!) She was tickled we think.
A woman is dropped off by a knowing friend, and cries before she even enters.
A traveller with golden clips in her hair has a child-like energy as she skittles into the caravan. She announces afterwards she’s currently living in a caravan, living the dream around Australia. Lucky duck.
A woman refused to enter because she had a dog in tow. She told us of previous art projects in the area, including a fisherman sculpture that had its foot lopped off. She promised to come back with a photo. I hope she does.
And lastly a father and daughter came running, not wanting to miss out. We felt important that they had. I’m not sure we were what they expected.
Until tomorrow Mandurah, we will be there from 11 till 3.30 till Friday.
Hope to see you.
There was something in the air today.
Vulnerability? The moon? Something.
We haven’t had this many tears in a long while:
The first was a mother in white with two boys.
Then a woman in a grey dress.
Then special man who brought us to this festival.
A writer who announced she would be 81.
And a mother who was struggling with a daughter more interested in her phone.
She decided to leave her daughter outside. (Good decision)
And her daughter looked in puzzlement as to why her mum was crying when she came out.
Because, she said. Just because.
A lady with a spanish accent came and could have stayed forever.
Her son, with a wry smile, enjoyed it too.
A red haired volunteer for the festival shooed away her friends so she could have her moment.
And one brave girl, later, did the same to her bunch of friends who loitered around.
We watched a duck chase some fish in a circle under water.
Ah, the magic of nature. Those ducks can swim fast.
A twenty something boy looked calm and smiling as he closed his eyes and listened.
Some bare-footed visitors.
Two cautious but sufficiently curious girls.
And a returnee with her brood. Him with a t-shirt of Saturn.
Maybe it was Saturn. Not the moon.
Or just, one of those days.
With lots of moments.
It’s slow to start. But then.
A henna-handed lady arrives and is the first, eager to enter.
A daughter sits on her Dad’s knee while they share a moment. He’s so moved that he then repeats with his other daughter.
It’s the men today who were most touched.
A few dads.
A group of 11 teens on scooters arrive loudly, but leave quietly.
A determined boy hops out of his wheelchair.
And another tells me about his necklace from Bali.
A man in green surprised and states “I need to send my mate to this.”
They rule this town we think.
A long essay from a shy girl.
And a patient wait from a red-head beauty.
And all the while we’re next to a megaphone.
Spouting children’s words about all sorts.
But it’s their words about love. In all it forms.
That reminds us why we made this work.
Our last day.
A humid day.
A pair of cousins in thongs sat side by side and typed together.
A family rotated gelato with ipods in having their aMoments.
A stripey black-suited beauty gave a big squeeze at the end.
A pair: one with purple, one with plaited hair.
We squished in a family of three, with many smiles.
A friend visited and told me it was too sad before she entered. She agreed it wasn’t so sad afterwards. Phew.
Impressed by a child sporting ugg-boots in the heat. She must love them.
I could hear fireworks. But not see them. They must have been for the Lunar New Year…
The sky turned pink and wanted to rain. Only a few fat drops fell. Much to our relief.
A single teen defied her pack and stopped for aMoment.
Two rushing ladies gamble their time when they hear it’s our last night. I think they’re glad they did.
A lady in white rushed, but still smiled.
And a lovely woman confessed she could vividly remember being 8 herself and trying to envisage herself in 20 years time.
And finally an umbrella was held by a friend as the last audience member had her aMoment.
Thank you Perth.
There were many of you.
We’ve now read all your notes. All 228.
And had our aMoment being stopped by them.
You reminded us why this work should keep going.
Hope to see you again. Soon.