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GHOSTS OF WITTENOOM
Surrounded by some of the most magnificent country you are ever likely to see, the little that is left of Wittenoom provides few clues (half a dozen houses, a street sign reading “5th Avenue”, cracked roadways amongst the mule-mula) to what was once a thriving township. The handful of people who remain, in the face of adversity and deprivation, are similarly resistent.
The silence is cathedral-like. When the sun sinks behind the ranges, the harsh landscape becomes soft and velvety. The sky transforms into a mauve/blue canopy, an echo of the blue asbestos which brought about the town’s birth and death. Night draws its curtain and countless stars pulse in the sky. Later I hear dingoes howling, like the wolves from my childhood in East Prussia. |
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