Brisbane (July)

October 1977 it was exploring Indoorapilly side streets riverwards scattered with bopple nuts. Then if you, anti-nuclear, crossed the city-square gutter plainclothes police pushed you forcibly onto detainment buses. Instead, to escape temperatures you went indoors to ‘M’ (Fritz Lang), only eluding Berlin’s past when you emerged again into brown heat. Unlike July 2018, which is palm trees, louvred hillsides, the morning sun on acres of tin roof. Over at St Lucia it’s a conference where digital humanism and incunabula indexing co-exist, but not before the lovely GPS lady sends you in the wrong direction over Go Between Bridge.