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The Highway and the Lost Soldier

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The Highway and the Lost Soldier The midday sun around Adelaide River does something violent to the bitumen. At forty-five degrees, the Stuart Highway softens like melting fat; it turns into a black mirror, rippling with an unnatural, liquid glare that pools over every low rise. That is where it waits. He is always trudging south, away from life and deeper into the blistering furnace, his boots making no sound against the tar. From two hundred yards out, he resembles a stranded traveler you’d pull over to save. He wears sun-bleached, disintegrating drill cotton that matches the bone-white dust of the termite country, his head angled down at an impossible, broken angle against the glare. No broad-brim hat. No swag. No water bottle. Just stiff, unnatural limbs jerking with every stride. “Driver... look at his face. We need to stop—why won't he turn around?” He is no lost tourist. Could he be the linesman from the Overland Telegraph days who tore off his clothes and vanished into the ...
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Kyoto Mound

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Evidenced prosperity and eternal continuation
Meticulously realised

Requirement proof of achievement
Dedicated resources symbolised

Making sure the job was done
Finding a way to demonstrate the cause

Accounted merit & overlooked squander
Each concentration of power justified

Then scale is diverted to an even more grand stature
These the practices of the elite



The stories we tell ourselves
To allow it at home
The power of beautiful impressions 
Being both good and bad
Desirable and undesirable








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