‘It’s just like a painting.’

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Being on the move feels like having a birds-eye view of the country.

It’s the                gaps,

the        spaces      between          places, full-up with nothing, that are the most telling. It’s those first tentative forays into Town, the clenched teeth and and partially-open mouths as we turn onto

Main Street,

Anzac Highway,

High Road,

Arterial Pass

[etc.]

The lazy, 10km/hr turns off the main drag, eyes wide open and bleary, bellies empty, armpits warm, throats hoarse.

The back of my neck is strained from maintaining an

inquisitive mandible.

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