Mark has rattled that little bone in my head blowing strong shes right on sweet NZ runnning around getting our stuff together.
Single wing that flys with out a single feather.
Meeting a the paddock like perfect no d** in me but I feel like an addict.
Patches of rock that are sticking out like mange no scabe dog shes the beautiflly Paeroa range.
Deer and boar they have a home on her true her top scapes then it just cuts into the blue.
Also looks like a giant pushed dirt over a grave not sure if I'm fool hardy or brave.
Dust is spiralling from the car like a vapour trail soon so quiet slip throught the air under a sail.
At take off there is always a saftey check who wants to break and then spiral into the deck.
Standing there I feel the glory of a thermal. We have come to worship at our temple.