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Scroll Down to View Diary entries 1 to 6 of 20 in the "Red"
series...
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Kitchen Red Reflection, Whites Beach, Victoria.
Sunday, March
09, 2008, 2:16
PM
Dear Diary - Reflections in red bind the kitchen bench to my subconscious...we cut into the red flesh and prepare it for consumption...we spice and salt and pepper and cook and simmer and fry and roast and complain when there is no pink or seeping juices to indicate the level of rare and cover in sugared tomatoes and slice and chew and chew and chew and lick the flavoursome juices and in the kitchen the red reflection is always there lingering in the background...
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Red Shoes at Beach.
Sunday, March 09, 2008, 12:20
PM
Dear Diary - managed to catch up with red shoes down at the beach (seems to be the place where we catch up the most often). Always good to sit and chat and kick through the sand...
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Her Red Shoe - Rottnest Island.
Thursday, January
17, 2008, 3:16
PM
Dear Diary -
...her red shoe ...her legs ...her red toenails
...she almost sleeps ...she lightly dreams of the swim that she will soon take...
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Red Phone Listens for a Tram.
Sunday, May 06, 2007, 7:33
AM
Dear Diary - a lot of life is spent waiting for the next tram...
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The perspective from the level of red phone (situated pretty much centrally to this snap) pulls the parallel lines of the tram tracks and the palm trees along Bulla road towards their inevitable convergence. Red phone sits on the large, crushed rocks that lie between the tram rails, listening attentively for a tram...the sky is pale grey and hints of cool weather...
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The white noise of some passing traffic is overpowered by the approach and passing of a tram...the wind bumps at the microphone and an assortment of birds struggle to make themselves heard above the human-generated sississilation...
Listen to a sound bite from this location...
(*.mp3 format, 940KB)
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There is not a lot noticeable about the smell here, just a slight rusty, metallic aroma arising from the tram tracks, and an earthy, rubbly odour from the rocks and trees...
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The feet of my tripod scrape on the concrete division I am standing on when I take this shot...I stumble on the uneveness of the large, crushed rocks between the tracks and the concrete sleepers...the trunks of the palm trees are crumbling and powdery to the touch...I rub the rails and notice that they are cool and smooth on the half that has been polished by the decades of tram traffic, whilst the other half of each rail is pitted and pocked from an equal amount of weathering...
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Tastes of earth and rubble, vegetation and a hint of traffic fumes...it is a dry and dusty type of flavour...
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Blood Switch SB No. 22.
Wednesday, December
27, 2006, 8:27
AM
Dear Diary - "...with great power comes great responsibility..." BUT "...power corrupts: absolute power corrupts absolutely..."
...beware the temptation to flick the Blood Switch...
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Yellow Wall, Red Car Blur.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006, 3:58
PM
Dear Diary - Solid yellow marks the permanence of the wall, brightly reflecting the warmth of the winter's afternoon sun. Overpass, safety wall, dull coloured grasses all work hand in hand to highlight the glowing scar that crosses my vision. A red car speeds past...blurs...a droplet of blood is casually wiped from a freshly opened wound...
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Diary entries 1 to 6 of 20 in
the "Red" series...
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