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I grew up in no man’s land. Like a tumbleweed, buffered between the winds of passion and ability.

I grew up in romantic no man’s land. Walking a mostly solo journey of uneven landscape, uncertain distance and mist opportunity.

I grew up in no man’s land. I followed a well-worn gorge, but somehow climbed to burst through the cloud and see sunlight above.

I grew up in no man’s land. Pegged out to dry between the pillars of doubt, insight, opportunity and action.

I grew up in no man’s land. Somehow dodging the bullets of bullies and the trophies of leaders alike.

I grew up in no man’s land. Always wondering if the landscape itself could be more noble. More enduring and more certain.

I grew up in no man’s land. As uncertain as the landscape was, it’s now become a blue water ocean under my all-too-small surfboard.

I grew up in no man’s land. I had youthful invincibility. A thirst for broad-strokes adventure and a body to match. Now I have the wisdom to pick my journeys, conserve my strength and recognise the subtle beauty I find along the way.

I grew up in no man’s land. Now smiling, I grow old on my own small, purchased piece of the World.

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