I am now a regional queer disabled artist

First flower - new growth

Three weeks ago, I moved to the country. I love it here. For me, it is heaven on earth. I am happy as the proverbial.

I have tiny fairywrens flitting through my backyard, and an Eastern water dragon I have named Scuttle.

There is only one supermarket, and it doesn't deliver.

Everyone I have met is kind. A neighbourhood angel brings my bin up for me, if I'm not quick enough. Afternoon dog walkers have invited me to their weekly card game session. I feel like I've moved to some false Hollywood utopia, but this is real.

I think the city was killing me. The noise. The selfishness. The road rage. The ignorance and arrogance of the able-bodied. The anything-for-a-buck mentality.

It's not like that here. Here, people take the time to get to know you a little before they ask for money. Maybe it's the smallness of the town - I guess everyone knows where everyone else lives, and ripping off a customer would mean the end of your business.

I would never, never, have dreamed that I would one day be single, move to the country by myself, be queer, and have trouble using my arms and legs to the point that some days I can't leave the house. But here I am. This is my new reality.

Go well.

Gen Memory

November 2025