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smoke
There is a pall of rather apocalyptic-smelling smoke over the house today. The school across the street is burning off and little packets of ash keep landing on my shoulders like dandruff. Like many things from my childhood which have been banned everywhere else, the burning of rubbish still happens in country SA. I was…
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May-June fiction podcast: The World Muscles In, part 2
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a name by any other rose
Back in South Australia, and the rhythm of the countryside takes over. Chopping firewood and plugging draughts. Protecting the young garden from frost, pruning the fruit trees. Farmers talking about the last days of wheat seeding, anxiously watching the sky. Early nights and plenty of baking. A black-shouldered kite hovers over the paddock next door,…
