Nolan got it right, his mind/armour split. His “My God it’s full of stars” visor twinkled.
Historical mischief, stringy barks’ cat o nine tails skin, bad sunburn peel, bright red police redder. MAD MAX counterweight our Ned the bush warrior, pre-bitumen, disc brakes ignorant letter writer, 44 kilos of cultural burden. What if Bryant wore a helmet too?
There’s a little bit of Ned in (you).
Kelly’s last view; dull coloured time let in holy light, touch wood his beam killer.
Eyelashes scratched at hessian cloth, on the hill yobbos gawked, bluestone stood.
It all ends through visor-cam.
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