Beneath Flagstaff’s plane trees, in a borrowed age,
They move like echoes freed from stone and page.
Feathers crown the brow, bone-white masks declare
The dance of life with death entwined in air.
Drums speak softly where the grass is worn,
Old worlds awaken in the Melbourne morn.
Between the paths, where past and present meet,
Ritual breathes again on urban feet.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
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