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Adelaide River to Daly Waters: through the windscreen

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  Adelaide River to Daly Waters: through the windscreen Through the windscreen, the drive south from Adelaide River toward Daly Waters reveals the continent’s layered past, unfolding mile by mile. The journey is not merely a passage through space; rather, it is a confrontation with history itself, where the frontier’s rupture transforms the land into a living narrative of loss, power, and the slow, stubborn return of what was once taken. Once you cross that violent threshold, where modern roads carve through the repressed ghosts of the interior, you can never see the Australian outback the same way again. The bitumen transforms: no longer a mere ribbon of asphalt, but an audacious thread of technology stretched tenuously over ancient, dreaming ground. Southward, beyond the iron-stained ridges of Pine Creek and the sun-scorched Barkly plains , the story changes. Here, the land speaks of colonial bravado undone, of cultures and nations ground and reformed by force. Telegraph stat...

Hole in the Wall: The Tide Formed My Pool

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The Tide Formed My Pool When the tide wash in from billions of kilometers away. I found myself tossed within the mirth. And within this stirred up sentiment. In the rubbish and the forgotten. I became my new reality. The one of prosperity and r eal economic growth. As best described by the social commentators of the day. Despite the widening gap that separates the haves and have nots. And the separatists and the terrorists. And the defenders of old orders and wants of youth. And the arguments that form the threats of war My new found contentment places me. Within the data of acceptable trends. Within what is normal for my age. My gender. My genetical heritage. Then as forecasted, the tide seeped out. And so began the new realities and our new stories that had to be acquired. Just look at me, as I shine under the cyclical moonlight. As now in true fullness, I bloom and reflect calm beauty. In stillness and patience, I make little comment. I shingl...

Hole in the Wall: Pool Time

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Hole in the Wall: Pool Time I wanted to fly to another planet, but I first built this swimming pool. My dreams just started getting away from me, and then I let them go. In the heat of the day, I plunge into my pool. My refreshing water. I own it. I work for it. When I'm tired of my thoughts I submerge into it. When I'm confused and in panic, I fall gently into it. I emerge feeling invigorated and comforted. Continuation seems so easy once and only after submerging in my cool clear water. My dreams to transform my life never eventuated. I knew it once, when  I was promised myself to achieve. I could aspire. You never fail when you attempt to chase. Somewhere I needed to reconcile between the obtainable haves and impossible wants. Have I succumbed to failed by fabricating my mediocrity prison of pleasure? Am I floating in falsehood Am I wallowing in water of hindrance? I built and tender to this my own 3-meter submersion of comfort. In my moment before...

Moon over Desert

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Hole in the Wall: Moon over Desert Within solitude, there is self-beauty to be discovered. Engage silence and dismiss the want to share. And dismiss the necessity to be liked. And love the abstract of your abyss. Be satisfied by the soiling and scratching of time. Whilst crawling and scampering throughout. The same mistakes. The same divisions. The same crisis. When secrets have long passed their importance. And the desert sea shimmers under full moon. Recognise that glorious intent is cyclical. Without thought and without hoopla grasp this intent. Without the need. Without the seeing. What is fully understood is quickly dismissed. Your story has the greater impact. Your synthesis of fact diminishes being. Nothing will hurt you in your solitude. Within cyclic patterns enable the time to feel your situation. What is in determinism. As an insect in forrige. And thankful for the ambient light. The casting your domain is difficult to define. Let in the univ...