Vision of the twenties

My first recollections of Kenneth Slessor set him in an afternoon drift of golden light out of which his keen face with slightly sardonic smile glints with its own warm hues. H e is fiddling about with a crystal set, the first I have seen, and keeps insisting that he has picked something up; while, below, the waters of Sydney Harbour are briskly moving in regular scalloped lines and enclosing us with a busy tangle of reflected lights. Between the failures to coax music out of the brilliant air, we talked about poetry and the absolute necessity of a magazine which would say all the obvious things that had never been said before. Because Frank Johnson knew printers and said that we needn't bother about costs, the magazine became Vision.