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Echoes in the Wire Unspooling Day 1

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  Scene 1 In the cradle of copper veins, where the first byte flickered like a eucalyptus firefly against the millennial dusk of 2000, threads uncoiled—raw and unbidden, a post-punk snarl weaving through the static hum of dial-up dreams. Imagine the snare drum's ghost-crack echoing off Uluru's red flanks , not as a conquest but as a lover's bruise, blooming violet under star-pricked skin. Here, rebellion wasn't a fist raised in Canberra's marbled halls but a glitch in the grid . A Laughing Clowns howl warping the airwaves, sonic annotation—jagged guitar riffs splintering into didgeridoo drones , fading to the hiss of cooling circuits. The wire remembers: a young voice, pixels pulsing with the fury of forgotten tapes, cassette ribbons unravelling like the Murray-Darling 's parched secrets, whispering of bans that bind not bodies but bytes, burqas woven into neural lace, veils pleading for the light they obscure. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge Jo...

Photo Cullen Bay Utensils





I want the direct experience
And devour it in full
And in the presence of my time

I do not want incomprehensible transcendence
Nor do I want the just of divine intervention

I want to profit whilst bathing in enlightenment
Make profit whilst demanding entitlement
Bask in my overwhelming brilliance
And wanting to hammer the life out of itself

Questioning the thing in itself
To employ the utensils of power
To challenge our spectrum
To become limitless








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