I'm in the bush. I'm greeted by an older woman or maybe I'm following her. I hear of how they came here some 2 or more years ago.

I get the sense this is 'their' place. Without necessarily belonging to them, it 'belongs' to them. They made this their own. I look down at my feet - you can still see the messages they wrote on the soil. It's remained untouched.

As I think about this, I notice that I've just gone ahead and stepped through that same 'untouched' soil. It's fairly likely I scrubbed over a few little messages without thinking. No worries. I have the impression these words on the soil are like echoes of her and her friend's opinion about the environment, living simply or something similar. They might even have made a CD with instructions, snippets of the wisdom they gleamed out here.

* scene changes *

I'm at the top of a hill with my mum. The hill is somewhat familiar, it reminds me of standing at one of the hills that shelter my family home. From here, I can see everything! The view is remarkable. My mum is here with me now (as though a friend of the first woman). I see my mum's face light up as she recognises my appreciation of the view. She seems proud that I can acknowledge this beauty that has always existed for her.

All of a sudden, I start sliding down the hill on my butt. It seems that the hill leads straight down onto the driveway of my parent's house. I worry for a moment that I'm going to end up with a pretty damaged/dirt covered set of clothing - I'm basically bare-skin tobogganing through grass - but somehow come to the driveway in good shape.

Standing up, I feel incredibly at peace. Dark, green bands of grass stretch across the usually rock-covered driveway. Snow peas have fallen to the ground - as though a natural part of seasonal change. Jill Scott is playing in the background. I bend down, noticing another tasty looking snow pea. The music plays on.