I went back to the labyrinth this morning to take some of my own photos. It had rained overnight after two very hot days and the creek smelled of fragrant eucalyptus. The labyrinth sits between the path and a cliff.
Close to the entrance is a sign, surrounded by bluestones. It respects Wurundjeri custodianship and invokes ancient, Biblical and new age discourse, concluding with a slightly strained inverted subjunctive.
Here is the pock-marked bubbled basalt block that marks your first turn in the labyrinth.
And here, as if in answer to my desire to trace our affective relationship with bluestone, is the smooth square rock I talked about two days ago, on the left as you enter, but on your right as you emerge, having walked the labyrinth, on which someone has carefully scattered birdseed.
A form of homage? Just this stone and no others. At the very least, a sign that someone else has come to walk this labyrinth and make connections with the creek and its inhabitants.
Close to the entrance is a sign, surrounded by bluestones. It respects Wurundjeri custodianship and invokes ancient, Biblical and new age discourse, concluding with a slightly strained inverted subjunctive.
Here is the pock-marked bubbled basalt block that marks your first turn in the labyrinth.
And here is the rough, very irregularly shaped rock that is the first one you pass on your right as you enter.
And here, as if in answer to my desire to trace our affective relationship with bluestone, is the smooth square rock I talked about two days ago, on the left as you enter, but on your right as you emerge, having walked the labyrinth, on which someone has carefully scattered birdseed.
A form of homage? Just this stone and no others. At the very least, a sign that someone else has come to walk this labyrinth and make connections with the creek and its inhabitants.
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