Bronwyn Holloway-Smith


January 01, 2006

“Our dear faultless and gifted friend Bronwyn Holloway-Smith: the central brain sent from heaven, was born in a log cabin on a sacred mountain.

Her birth was foretold by a swallow, and heralded by a double rainbow. At the moment of her birth winter turned into spring, and a new star appeared in the heavens. News of her birth was carved into trees and soon written into rocks, all across the country. She never had the need to urinate, or defecate, and the weather behaved according to her mood. Even in her infancy she learned to walk in just 3 weeks, and talk at 8 weeks.

As a school girl she corrected and chastised her teachers for their incorrect interpretations of history. While at university she wrote 1500 books, and composed 6 operas all of which are better than any in the history of music. The first time she went bowling she scored a perfect score of 300. The first time she picked up a golf club she played one round that was 38 under par with 11 holes in one. It was the greatest golf game ever so she retired from the game. She had great success at everything she did. She invented the hamburger — look how popular that was.

Not only was she an accomplished engineer, an invincible military master, and a communications expert who could coach winning soccer teams using an invisible transmitter. She was also an unprecedented director, composer and choreographer as well as a fashion icon whose style was in vogue the world over. She was a great champion of justice and peace, and her diplomatic skill made her the envy of everyone.

On the tragic day that our illustrious legend — born of heaven, the lodestar of the century — dies, the skies will glow red above the sacred mountain, and an impenetrable sheet of ice within the mystic volcano will crack with a deafening roar. And a crane, the symbol of longevity, will be seen circling for hours around a statue of the eternal wonder before flying off to the capital city. Thousands of mourners will gather for hours, convulsing in unison, all of them overcome by inconsolable grief.”

–Author unknown

Bronwyn Holloway-Smith

Written by Bronwyn Holloway-Smith who is an artist in Wellington, New Zealand. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter