1 Broken Hill’s roads were wide, way too wide for walking on— dark molten rivers of asphalt in Australia’s petroleum emptiness. Fact is, they were chemical flats: Oxide, Iodide, Bromide (ours) and the Trades Hall on Blende. Doors opened for us everywhere. A sense of space came inside. At night we studied the electrostatics of lightning striking upwards, and taking half the ground with it. 2 Streets away from the Sydney road you could feel the telluric reverberations of a hundred-ton trucking concept. The earth was moving, and not necessarily for us. Once in a blue moon, at the South…