April 2026
Pazuzu nibbles on the lemongrass plant and then she climbs on my shoulder and licks my cheek, the scent of lemongrass strong on her breath. The thing about cats is that they don’t give a damn about your personal space; they’ll invade yours and make it theirs.
Marion’s been gone for 613 days, but her garden is still here:
Bougainvillea Areca palm Monstera Rain lily Hibiscus Lemon thyme Green chilli China doll
It’s five-thirty in the morning and I’m sitting in the courtyard staring back at the flower pots opposite. A rustling behind the giant monstera and a bandicoot the size of a toaster emerges from the ferns, glaring at me as if I owe it money, then it scurries out the main gate.
