What Footprints Are Firewood Is Not

Margaret's meaningful proposition was:

Shall we crack open a bottle?

And Wittgenstein's answer was yes.

So Margaret opens a very large hamper that she has brought down to the beach from the car.

It's in here somewhere, says Margaret, throwing out twigs and a few planks of wood.

You've brought wood, says Wittgenstein.

For our campfire, says Margaret. This is a National Park. We can have a campfire, but we can't gather firewood.

I see, says Wittgenstein. But he doesn't.

I can see that you don't, says Margaret. But if everyone gathered firewood there wouldn't be any.

That would solve the problem, says Wittgenstein.

You're right. Perhaps it already has, says Margaret. But here's the bottle. It's a cleanskin. Open it will you.

Wittgenstein opens the bottle.

What happened to corks?

Corks? says Margaret. No one uses corks these days.

Wittgenstein sighs. There are some things he doesn't remember.

But he remembers corks.

She pours red wine into two plastic beakers.

They drink the red wine, watching the sunset. The sand dunes glow orange, and fade into gray

Wittgenstein becomes expansive. He tells Margaret how he once became overly interested in door knobs.

She is fascinated.

The mulloway waits for the fire.

.......

We shall not be surprised that this happens to Terence.

Terence is looking for firewood, having been told what it is.

He is stomping about in the coastal vegetation.

A stick appears, sticking up out of the sand. Firewood!

He grabs one end and pulls it.

Stop! cries a sharp grown up voice.

I'm not doing anything, says Terence.

Looks to me like you're gathering firewood, says the Ranger.

It won't come out, says Terence.

Then you're lucky, says the Ranger. There's a fine for gathering firewood in the Coorong National Park. You're supposed to bring your own firewood.

Yippee! says Terence.

Yippee! thinks the stick. (Only because it's alive and still growing).

Let's get you back to your family, says the Ranger. Where are they?

Terence looks around. Bum hole! He might be lost.

I might be lost, says Terence.

Never mind, says the Ranger. This is a good chance to teach you a lesson.

I already learned a lesson, says Terence.

A new lesson, says the Ranger. Look at your feet. Good. Now take a step backwards. What do you see?

My same feet, says Terence.

Footprints, says the Ranger. We can follow your footprints back to your camp site.

Not those ones, says Terence, looking at the two footprints he just stepped back from.

Correct, says the Ranger. Not those. The ones behind you.

Terence turns.

A trail of his footprints!

This Ranger is smart.