In Cairns I look for a job. I do not arrive to be hired as a sugar cane cutter because I do not have the  bodily for such a job. Finally in making me pass as a swiss butcher I am engaged in a great bloodshed in the middle of the busch. It is the absolute hell! I do not even arrive to sharp my knives. A tall blackman coming from the Friday Island shows me how to do it. I am still grateful to him, although it was maybe not by kindness that he helped me. But perhaps to avoid to do my  pieces of meat as I was not able to follow (he was  next to me at the chain-work).

Disheartened the foreman places me on the chain coming out of the cold room. A siren resounds and  half of a cow arrives on the rail  to my level. I must take out three ribs, then again the siren, and it goes to the follower. I am not quick enough and cut my fingers all the time because the knives are not very sharp. The follower who also has to do "my three ribs"  swears at me. 

As a last resource one places me to the rolling carpet on which the cleaned bones arrive. They fall in front of me, I must put the skulls on a rolling carpet and the rest of the bones on another one. A nightmare ! A heap of bones piles up around me and soon I am  no more visible. It bawls. The rolling carpets are stopped.

So again without work I go in a hurry to Brisbane where I settle down in 1963. I work in various factories. And very alone in the furnace of my small room I spend my free hours painting parrots etc.