And the dreams reel in to where I lie, the land I sleep and drive, leaving Kunnunnurra, heading out on the Great Northern Highway toward Falls Creek, Fitzroy Crossing and Broome. North the Timor coast, south the Simpson Desert for two thousand miles under a nuclear sun, the Southern Ocean, Antarctica, the emptiness beneath the galactic plane, infinity. The whole universe is a closed system of waves in time-space. We also are a system of waves and events, localized, even though as with all waves our extension is infinite. What sets us apart from the stars and all else between and beyond is our ability to know – in contemplation we carry within our eddy of waves and events a dark reflection of all. We’re each of us a witness, a lens, the fields of God projected onto a tiny palette, and though both lens and palette are imperfect, though this reflection may be distorted by the limited window of our senses and by the asymmetry of an image that cannot include itself, still, we are unique in this capability to contemplate the whole other. The more clear that reflection, the more true that reflection, the more we hold of all there is within, the more we resemble God. In this we are fearsome little tornadoes, armed with the power of our knowledge as we drill our brief path, foolish in our blindness, driven to encompass that which is not us, a futile puff then extinction, leaving no trace on the everlasting cyclone. Love exposes any border, any lens defining our little cluster of wave packets from all else, as an illusion. We are one with all else, but all else can only be encompassed by God. Heading out from Fitzroy Crossing now towards Broome after sunset. Time to change the tape. Goodnight.