A collection of the featured posts as they appeared on mo'time
I sometimes fantasise about the apocalypse
Abandoned landscapes: an old highway cracks against the pressure of tree roots growing in a forgotten landscape. The old sandstone bridge that crosses the gully is subjected only to the sound of birds and insects. The rumble of engines and the honking of horns sound in the distance like an echo of what was once here; rebounding off the valley walls. The yellow dividing lines are faded and debris is scattered across the bitumen...
I thought about that scene when I stepped off the plane into the humid air of the Pacific. Indian miner birds, as much a relic of British colonialism in Fiji as they are in Australia, lined the walkway to arrivals. They added an eerie feel to the warm dusk, somewhat like a murder of crows lining the road waiting for carrion.
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