"To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze ... such sweet wayfaring" William Wordsworth
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Party is over
With the last hallelujahs fading in the air, Barangaroo returned to its former life as a windswept patch of bitumen waiting for building developers to move in.
Tumbleweed It was August (known to be a windy month of the year) and it was blowing a gale. Tumbleweeds hurtled across our path, pressed forward by the busy wind. While I was photographing the tumbleweed, I braved the icy blast to find a few more tiny flowers and fruits by the roadside.
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