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Necropolis Gully

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  Necropolis Gully Ancient Fertility  The only sound in the deep quiet of the crevice was the crunch of my boots on the debris-strewn ground. Towering stone walls, draped in vibrant green moss , rose on either side, making me feel like an intruder in a forgotten tomb . My matte-black suit , a product of a future this place could never have imagined, felt profane against the ancient rock . Then I saw it: a weathered, silent figure standing in the path. It was a statue of a woman , carved from the same stone as the gully but shaped with clear intent. Moss crept up its base and clung to its form like a second skin. This impossible artifact, an architectural anomaly in this raw, natural fissure , stopped me. My steady, determined posture belied the storm of questions raging in my mind. The statue stared forward with blank, unseeing eyes, a silent witness to a history I had just stumbled into. My mission was to find my crew, but this place, this silent, stone woman , was a new, un...

Darwin Streets on a motorcycle: Sprigg

The starting point






This is the starting point.
However, my starting points are flexible and never reliable.
For this reason I have started in the middle.
Although a street has a starting and finishing point, the stories of in-between are what I am interested in.

There is nothing ordinary in ordinary.
You don't have to be a christian to be a christian.
You don't have to be an American to feel powerful.
You don't have to ride a motorcycle to feel the road.

The problem is, there is too much road.


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