

Worimi country
new bedroom </3
Last lockdown felt like a necessary space for death n transformation but this time I feel suspended along multiple timelines that instead of staying linear travel in slow circles. Each loop I see versions of myself in various stages of change. Occasionally I catch glimpses of a place outside of this one but it travels on a different orbit to mine.
lately i’ve been thinking about the rigidity of social constructs and how shepherded we are by human behaviour. eg the way I dress and how much thought i put into it, not just in terms of style but in the way it conveys my values n perception of myself. clothing is an implicit language and carries so much meaning due to thousands of years of social exhibitionism, these meanings falter and redefine themselves daily and i cling to them.
living in this moment it feels like the absurdities of capitalism are about to fold in on themselves; a crumbling of ideals that will leave us blinded and baby-like and defenceless to the threat of our own species. i wonder at the thought of these constructs stripping slowly away from our bodies and what will be left behind. i wonder how freeing it would be to live in an infantile society; one in which languages were tied to the self and not ingrained into the fabric our clothes, our homes, our bodies.
we drove up into fire country to see the damage but instead became lost in a giant cloud, the gums moved like pale ghosts.
Apocalyptic // a city choking
Kakadu National Park