I'm living in the outback in Australia, and just down the road there's an old swimming pool, and on top of it there's a giant diving board.
Squatters have moved in and they're having a party and so I take my daughter and we go down to visit. It's fun, the jungle all around, jumping off the board - it's really not so much a diving board as a platform or treehouse high above the pool. These squatters, they seem nice enough.
And I'm swimming with my daughter in the pool, on our backs and I'm beneath her, holding her up to the air because she doesn't swim so good and I'm having difficulty keeping us both alive and so I push her to the edge of the pool where she can hang on, then come up for air myself.
At night, when we're back home, we talk about the squatters. They've fixed up the pool well, and the diving board - well, it's a treehouse now hundreds of feet in the air, but someone wants to develop that area and they're to be evicted.
We're over visiting the next day, they know they're going to be evicted but they're not going. The guy of the treehouse, he's a beard and looks very granola, he shows me a cheque for $38,000 dollars, they're going to destroy the treehouse tomorrow and they want to pay them to leave. He wants to spend the money on a huge party, a grand act of defiance, but I tell him that maybe someone in his family will need it...
It's a beautiful day to be in the treehouse, jumping out from high above the swimming pool, splashing about, climbing back up and doing it again...
The next day they explode the treehouse. Everyone is killed, except the wife (his wife, Granola's), but she's disappeared someplace and no one knows where.