(as if you're interested)

Bell knobs on roses and deep blood red gashes,
Bat's teeth and dog's breath and to-the-train dashes,
High coloured clouds with an flea on a string,
These are a few of my favourite thing...

this page just mucks around with the idea of illustrated text
(note the trendy use of large capitalised letters)


Favourite Music...

Music touches us at a deep emotional level. At the end of a long day that you'd prefer to forget, put on the music, turn up the volume a little, kick off those shoes and flop back onto the couch. If its winter, turn on the fire. If its summer, throw open a window and smell the sweet air of a cooling garden. Breath deeply and slowly. Let the music wash over you until your spine and scalp tingle.

If a tear comes to the corner of your eye, let it stay there awhile, you've been touched by the genius of another soul reaching you through time and space. Your mind roams free inventing imagery. Ahhhh.....

A current favorite sure to put me in a deeply reflective mood is 'Bailero' from Canteloube Songs of the Auvergne. The version I have is sung by Patricia Rozario accompanied by the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Sir John Pritchard.

Such melancholy and sweet longings. Its opening chords swell up in a manner almost verging on New Age music. A soaring run of notes on the flute suggests seagulls in the sun, blue skies, the unfurling of sails, palm fronds swaying in the tropical breeze. Curious that it should conjure up such imagery, because it is firmly based in European folk tradition, but then music is such a personal thing. A harp and haunting oboe beckons one to a distant shimmering isle where, perhaps, a lover is waiting...

From: entruchio marchubar (25/2/0)
To: datkinson@rmit.edu.au
Mail*LinkĘ SMTP
Your Website

Dear D. Atkinson,
Whilst surfing for articles unrelated, I happened apon your website. The photography stuff was of great interest. However, I have also come across the following; " A soaring run of notes on the flute suggests seagulls in the sun, blue skies, the unfurling of sails, palm fronds swaying in the tropical breeze."

Oh my God!!! Must you write this dross? This is appalling. How can you expect readers to put up with this type of dreadful metaphor?

Do yourself a favour mate! Stick to taking photos. Your photos and website are fantastic, but get someone else to write your words.

Yours truly, Entruchio J. Marchubar (P.S. your site is far, far, far better than mine.)
Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com ==============================================

.... or perhaps not!
But then again...

From: Tina (5/7/0)
To: datkinson@rmit.edu.au
Mail*LinkĘ SMTP

I happened across your web site as I was doing research on the bedouin tribes. Normally, as I happen upon web pages, I will read what is of interest to me and go on to the next site. I was totally amazed and felt compelled to write to you and tell you so. I think you should write a book with nothing but your so called "ramblings." You not only have a gift for great picture taking, but of words too.

Do You Yahoo!? Kick off your party with Yahoo! Invites. http://invites.yahoo.com/

meanwhile back to the theme...

Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana by Mascagni is sublime. Wagner's Pilgrims Chorus has an extraordinarily inventive structure. Bizet's duet 'Au fond du temple saint' from The Pearl Fishers is a lovely intertwining of voices and the big 'O' and K. D. Lang singing 'Crying' is cool too. When Bob Marley tells me "don't worry, be happy, every little thing's gonna be all right", his elastic laid-back beat makes me believe him.

Opera can make your soul soar to breathless heights. But when you're not in the mood for it, the screaming voices can give you a splitting head ache.




There is nothing like a spot of Puccini when bushwalking. Music of such grand passion. All the pain of the world is summed up in such poignant economy by the three tragic chords of Mimi's death scene.

One day I was walking on the Nepean Peninsular here in Melbourne (insert link here if I can find one). Its one of two arms of land enclosing a wide calm body of water called Port Phillip Bay which fends off the crashing breakers of open ocean to the south. A sun bleached board walk built to protect the delicate sand dune environment headed towards the bayside beach. I emerged from the gray green thicket of tea trees with their busy twisted knotted trunks and tiny fussy leaves completely absorbed in the music and the beauty that surrounded me.

I stood there on the board walk enthralled by the sight of a pristine beach of orange sand and clear sparkling water of turquoise, green and blue as the passion of La Boheme swelled in my ears. A perfect moment. Some walkers leaving the beach smiled and talked to me. I nodded in agreement, yes the view was great, yes perfect day, huh huh. I had the Walkman pumped up pretty loud. Not content to leave me alone, they persisted. I could tell they were somewhat annoyed that I should be wired for sound. Wasn't nature enough?

At last I looked down to see this tiny pigmy possum quietly eating at my feet. I could have stepped on it.


"In the wilderness lies the hope of the world. The great, fresh unblighted, unredeemed wilderness. The galling harness of civilasation drops off and the wounds heal ere we are aware."

John Muir

Cyberspace - the great uncharted wilderness of the interior



(I'm getting html fatigue from those trendy capitalised letters. I think I'll stop it soon)




Roads and travel...

A road somewhere in
South East Asia (56Kb)

A road. A road wandering towards a distant horizon. A road snaking up a hill. Full of teasing promise. As long as it doesn't end, its unfolding story never disappoints. What's over the next hill? What's just around the next bend? What on earth am I searching for?! Many a time wanderlust has caused me to turn for home far too late in the day. A typical Sagittarius.

Ahh.. roads and bridges. Amazing things. They carry you on their ribbon back from one world to another. Break down barriers, connect landscapes, connect cultures.

In Australia, our creeks and rivers aren't particularly wide, hence our bridges aren't particularly long. I love the old narrow wooden ones that cross dry creeks on out of the way dirt roads. The planks and bolts rattle and jangle with music as you cross them. Like playing a big wooden xylophone. These honest structures rough hewn from noble timber are fast disappearing.

A pause for a break beside the kind of wooden bridge typically found in the Australian countryside.
You can feel the wonderful dry heat of midsummer in this shot.
  My ever willing Vespa loaded up with camping gear. 'Putt putting' along the back roads where ever the whim took me was bliss.




Another bridge...

One of my favorite bridges was on the Eastern outskirts of Jakarta. I hopped on a bemo and stayed on board until it went no further. I ended up at a fishing village by the sea. There was another village across a tidal river which fed a lagoon. These two villages were connected by a bridge which had a lovely organic curve to it. It was made from wood, looked very old and was painted in this amazing shade of vivid yellow. It also had a hump in the middle to allow sail powered fishing boats to glide silently beneath it. I'll try and dig up some photographs of it.

Bridges like this funnel all the life of the village to them at one time or another during the day. I stayed there for hours watching life pass by until the setting sun turned those beautiful Indonesian faces walking by to burnished copper. This bridge was far too narrow and delicate to take cars and trucks, somewhat protecting the village it serviced from the changes they force upon landscape. There were old people, young people and people on bicycles. Becaks could barely squeeze through. There were men carrying their wares on the shoulder strung at each end of a flexible bamboo pole. Indonesians have a verb specifically for the act of carrying things in this fashion... 'memikul'.

Just after sunset of pink and soft blue with a lime green horizon, little kerosene lamps began to appear. Dusk in the tropics, the most sensual of times. Warm air cooling, rich with fragrant perfumes.

you can go to





'Absolutely Fabulous'. Patsy and Edwina are such over-the-top caricatures of outrageous characters, and yet once you enter their world, and watch them stumble through life, they are totally believable. A bit like Basil Faulty and Emanual. Although, I've watched each episode many times over, they're still a giggle.



a box of old pictures
the Williamston ferry

journeys in South East Asia
old buildings
steam - please don't go here!