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Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River

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  Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture (image to be uploaded - subscribe to be notified) The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touch...
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Celeste Innocent Bystanders

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What you think has been accepted
Unprecedented protection from devastation and pestilence

What you don't know
Is that the wave is in motion
Is that time is running out

What you need to do
Pullover, change direction and get out of here

Talk about the time to panic
The objective has been initiated
All of the mechanisms are in place
Weapons are drawn

The world is sick
From a sickness that is mutating and fastly evolving

Your presence is a hindrance
You are observing the crime but taking no action

Our leaders have diffused their responsibility
The more who standby to witness the less likely any response

The real victim is you, you the one many who will not be seen as the operation executes





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Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River

-
Image
  Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture (image to be uploaded - subscribe to be notified) The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touch...
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JJFBbennett travels to Taiwan

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