This was yesterday at a friend’s place in the countryside. Although the little river was dry, and although the cork trees here were not found in my childhood, it reminded me so strongly of a similar glade on the outskirts of a suburbs in Johannesburg where friends and I had walked almost forty years ago that I may well have overloaded on joy for the day.
It is scenes like these that I photograph in my mind too, and when I daydream, I recall voices, and smells and everything else that the photo cannot show.
Such moments make up for the rigours of concrete and help me survive doctors’ waiting rooms, and banking halls and, I suppose, washing the dishes. Mostly, these moments make me feel like me again.
©2018 Allison Wright
That elusive pair of jeans 
The evocation of African memories is sometimes set off by the weather here in Australia. The smell of rain on dry ground is one (now cleverly named Petrichor by CSIRO scientists). So, weather and smell work. Thanks Allison.
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