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  The unwinding tar ribbon fluctuates, challenges, unnerves. Ripples, ruts and road kill speeds past beneath us; bloated lumps of fur and grotesque smears along the dotted white line. When I am not driving, I am gazing out the window, admiring the sun draped hillside. When I am on the road, I am home. Advertisements

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Home: A Note from West Aus.

Tasmania: hauntingly strange, painfully familiar, achingly far. It has an unsettling call that lashes wildly across ocean and desert; a spirited place with a frozen echo. The island is both epically beautiful, and sincerely tragic, with rugged and brutal truths that were written in a long forgotten secret language. Roads weave endlessly over steep rises and […]

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Nights on the Nullarbor

The Nullarbor Plain: it’s that stretch of semi-arid landscape, on the coast between the desert and the coast on the Great Australian Bight, where the sky opens up and the horizon appears unreachable. It’s a place where the wind is hollow and an echo could ring out for a day, without another living soul having […]

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