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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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Ned Kelly State Dome

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Lyre Bird

Darth and Prowl


Ned Kelly Death Mask


State Dome



Ned Kelly State Dome

Venerated and preserved
In the house of the proper 
Maintaining academic distance
Sanitized discordance 

New Gods 
Man Gods 
Ancient Gods
Non-conformist solutions to address new problems

Confined by experience
Confirmed by previous learning

Our habits 
Our routine
Our prison









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