A novel featuring a Chinese doll, a French woman and a flute

05 January 2007

12. IDLE AND ALONE

Idle and alone Liyan finally decided to go and explore the hostel in all its corners. Downstairs in the common room lots of people from lots of different countries were walking around and talking. Some were preparing a meal in a quaint kitchen full of pots. The Japanese tourists didn't pay any attention to her. Gigi, a black woman, called her over and told her she came from Paris and was on her way to the South Island.

- "Funny! I just come from there," said Liyan proud, "the crossing of Cook Strait is a bit long, there's a falafel shop in Nelson and lots of apple tree in Motueka..."

Gigi was not going to Nelson to pick apples or to eat falafels. She was meeting up with Aaron she had met in Australia and loved madly.

One morning finally Elle got out of her bag and led Liyan towards the harbour. They hung around on the pontoons. Thousands of sailboats were dozing on their moorings under the Harbour Bridge that spans the bay of Auckland. No. No sailboat was likely to sail north east as Elle had thought. Nothing interesting on that side. Deciding in the end that she was not in a hurry to sail away anyway, Elle took Liyan down town Auckland.

Back at the hostel a fresh note on the notice board was offering free accommodation and food in exchange for some work on a sheep farm for the autumn shearing.

The next day Elle was in Hamilton in the Waikato area with rubber boots on, counting sheep.

- "That's a shame we left F-sharp in Auckland, isn't it?" Liyan said in the evening in the bedroom.

- "And the camera!" Elle added.

Then she was silent.

- "It's a bit of a mess here, isn't it?" Liyan was going on finding the atmosphere rather cool, the people distant and the house not pretty.

As Elle was not answering she became silent too.

The second day Elle was up at 6am.

- "Go this way and let the dogs out," had said Jim the sheep farmer boss, "and meet me at the shed."

The three dogs were in small cages on stilts near a semi-circled shelter where bridles for horses were hanging, half way between the house and the sheep shed. They bounced out of their cages, mad with impatience and passion for their shepherd's job. Elle had seen them work the day before obeying Jim's orders to muster the sheep and make them go where he wanted.

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Written by Frankie

Written by Frankie

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FOREWORD

This is not a novel really. It has no plot, no beginning and no end. It is a slice of life, the way it happened, portraying real people. A slice of life set with fantasy. This text is my own bad translation of what I wrote in French between 1996 and 1999.

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Copyrights 2006-2008 Frankie Perussault All rights reserved.

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