Glow Cloud


It’s bulbous lingering structure hovered precariously over the earth. It’s form rendering in my mind.

My imagination triggered the reforming cloud into various shapes.

The enigma started to dwindle in size, spreading out as the centred mass continued to grow. The forceful patterns of charcoal grey stirred in its inferno, edges trimmed with a golden glow. The cloud was rising.

A break of light streamed through the atmospheric grave into a tremendous glow. Rays of magically charged particles seemed to conquer the darkness as the golden light fell upon the wisps of air.

I sat in awe at nature’s wonder and thought we live in an amazing world.

sunlight hitting a cloud

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Until next time – Happy Shooting

Route 425


Walked from cinema, streets black in hue

Flashing lights shone, the bus gleamed new

Tumbling rain drizzled, neon lights blue

The bus-stop beckoned a threatening due.

 

My beat had quickened, pacing heart too

Looking to the left, my stomach ached through

Three homeless slept cold, braving the dew

Feeling guilt I shrivelled, sorrow told true.

 

Flashing lights cracked breaching the sky

Warning a clap, booming a-nigh

Waited in rain for 4 2 5

Street lights flickered, rain withered and died

 

Hopping aboard, I hustled to sit

Nearing the back I found an abyss

Eyes leered behind and burned anear

I was being watched for no iphone was here

 

Android shone brightly, mapping my way

GPS directed me traversing its way

Broken white lines twisted and turned

Fulfilling the ride all choppy and churned

 

Amber shone dimly, passing a must

The route steered right, passing a bus

Drawing to station, passenger alone

Holding her hand – signalled to throne

 

Red lights shone, doors flung in debate

No welcome aboard, sat driver in wait

Fighting her way drawn to a close

Rested her head to a nearer abode

 

The bus tunnelled, white tiled once new

Main road arrived, traffic was few

Darting our way from pillar to post

My destination seemed so handsomely close

 

My trip had finished, a walk was due

My saddened thought had made me blue

I wished I had helped the poor three men

I knew I must return to them

 

Tomorrow I will make a vow

To brighten their night somehow

I wish to make them feel anew

For this is something I must do.

Route 425

Photographed using my Google Nexus on location

________

Give to help.

Don’t be stubborn.

Be assertive and caring in what you do.

You will become a better person if you do.

Until next time – Happy Shooting!

Awaiting the Ferry to Circular Quay


Waiting for my transportation, water splashed about of the sides of the sea worthy platform. The ferry to Circular Quay was running late.

I sat gazed at the tourists fumbling with pixels hanging from their necks. They seemed persnickety about photographing the outdoors, stressing about every setting their cameras should be on.

Appearing from the depths of shiny bus, excitement shouted over distant outboard motors as the gathering continued to grow into a dozen or more. A spotted a Nikon DSLR, Android, Canon compact and Galaxy Note as they amassed the beautiful bay. Fingers pointed and smiles erupted at the beautiful scene before them.

After a quick talk from the well-suited driver, one member broke from the group signalling the other eleven to follow. Ostentatious shirtless surfers watched on, filling in the midday waves with a spot of relaxed fishing. I had to hold back a chuckle watching the centipede of chatter shuffle down the boardwalk, the group walked back and forth, briefly stopping to capture what seemed to be the same image.

An old Australian couple sat alongside me shaking their heads as the entertainment forwarded. Clothed in pristine slacks, ironed polo shirts and bleached matching hats, I imagined they had lived in Rose Bay all their lives. Their obnoxious concerns were voiced a little to loud as the unconcerned group walked past their comfort, “their noisy aren’t they?”  I sat up in disbelief could they be so rude? Even if they didn’t speak English I’m sure a ventriloquist could have been more silenced.

For me I was reminded about my new world, a world, which was separated by money and class. Australia as I knew it was becoming a stronger divide. I simply hoped respect could be learned and not taught by the older generations.

 


The darkened dirty streets reflected a vibrant light. Zombie paced office workers left the crammed metropolis. The 9-5 shift was over, their shoulders bound by modern technology. For the what was the working day to them, just another job to be done or were they enslaved by their portable screens? Tomorrow they will find out as the cycle continues…

image

Written and edited on a my Google Nexus while travelling.

Kaleidoscope of Colour


Falling like a feather on a gentle breeze its graceful landing furthered my fascination.  The butterfly danced on the tree-fern softly unfolding its wings in a kaleidoscope of colour.

My camera’s viewfinder portrayed incredible detail as the once cocooned insect stared back at me. I could see a pooled honey combed eye reflecting the big expansive world while its thin legs tested the living landing pad.

The slowly flapping illusion drew me even closer as I silently tapped the button which froze the moment in time.

Butterfly 010

 

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Butterfly 011

 

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Butterfly 012

 

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Rose Bay Please


Ushered by an overworked conductor I made my way to the awaiting battered old vehicle, stickers strewn, broken and stripped. The taxis missing hub caps caused an uneasy unbalance; the station wagon leaning relaxed by the roadside. My thoughts crept up with my eyes…was this a taxi?

Fixated on my thoughts the driver leered over from the safety of this sanctuary, Broken English seemingly fitting his decrepit ride, “whereyou need to go?”

“Rose Bay” I announced, trying to mask my harrowing voice.

“Rose Bay? I know you come?”  I nodded with hesitation agreeing to the shady reply.

After the drivers second attempt to unlock the rusty boot he continued to shake his head with frustration as I waited, heavy luggage in hand. The taxis behind me felt uneasy, the disorganised flurry continued to draw an uneasy attention. Suddenly the boot sprang open and an awkward smile hurried towards me.

My bags flew as they were propelled away, landing with a thickened thud into the open boot. Quietly I made my way to the rear passenger seat and calmed my anger. The driver jostled for rank as we exiting Sydney’s busy domestic airport, his fingers awkwardly flicked between the GPS and wheel as he typed in the destination.

Looking into his rear view mirror the broken conversation seemed pointless but I unwillingly engaged.

“Good trip?” He asked to which I detesting replied “yep”.

The minutes passed and foreign driver appeared in his element, comfortable in the wet, driving to the uneasy rhythm of rubber and metal etching its way into the dirty windscreen.  The illuminated road twisted and turned before us until it disappeared into the darkened tunnel.

Almost as if on cue once we were bound to the narrowing darkness the driver tapped his disconnected GPS and murmured “which way, left or right?” It was then my heart sank knowing my instinct and guard had slipped, fooled by my long journey and jet lag – I had chosen the wrong cab.

“I have no idea” I replied in disgust.  An uneasy silence lingered, turning to face me the driver replied, “no worry I know”.

Worry I did! Frustratingly the highway had become a distant memory in the ordeal. Side streets and traffic lights became a recurring norm.  The rain had stopped and the streets were now full of water. Shaking his head the driver tapped the GPS; the small stagnate red dot lay entangled in a myriad of mess, yellow lines overlapped three to four fold. The trip was turning into a tourist bus nightmare, just without the therapeutic commentary of a Sydney-sider.

Coaching our way across Sydney we managed to traverse the iconic Sydney Harbour Bridge for the second time before the driver noted his defeat. A forced iPhone landed in my hand as the desperate driver’s eyes quickly glanced and landed on mine. He spoke quickly “you look up and take me.” I acknowledged his request feeling a sense of pity.

I typed in my destination dodging the cracks of his dilapidated screen.  Handing the phone back he insisted on driving in the heavy wet traffic while holding his phone to which I strongly disagreed. Instead I turned on Google Maps on my trusty Nexus and was relieved to hear the therapeutic voice of the assistant. “Turn right in 200m.” Ah the serenity.

Following the direction of Google my driver managed to find my destination in just over one hour. After the ordeal, I felt pity on the driver so I decided to give him a flat fee of $60 as by now the meter would have been in the hundreds. He thankfully replied shaking my hand apologising profusely.

So now it is the morning after and based on my story the best advice I can give – don’t judge a book by it’s cover, instead judge a cab by its condition!

Arriving In Sydney


Boarding a mosaic of patchwork symmetry the rows of seats sat empty awaiting their passengers. I clambered through to the end of the plane where the tail spoke a louder hum. Numbness set in early, the plane rumbled and briefly shook, accelerating weightless in the sky.

The overhead signage switched off providing freedom to some agitated passengers who showed a fear of Cathisophobia. Like horses at a starting gate, loud children climbed rows of seats dodging unsuspecting passengers as they played in their mid-air playground. The game had begun. Just as small child’s head disappeared behind a seat a replacement would take watch, giggling with a smile big enough to evoke reactions from the engaging crowd. The fiasco continued for a few hours before the screams broke my vanishing solitude.  I was surrounded and my head began to throb. My headphones didn’t seem to provide enough protection from the agony.

My small space was interrogated even further by my fellow passenger as his hairy leg recited a small child on a bouncy castle. Occasional jabs in the back from an uncomfortable commuter reminded me I was yet again in the class of cattle. My rejected upgrade was laughing at me from behind closed curtains towards the front of the plane.

Despite my “adventure” I managed to keep a sound mind, for I was on a journey – a window of opportunity which rarely showed.

Pastels of watery bliss began appearing in broken clouds. The big city awaited me, thick clouds lingered as golden hues shone lost in the darkening overcast sky. The slight dribble of rain could be seen as the descent unveiled my final destination.

I had arrived. Sydney was now my place, my pad and my home.