A SLOW EX­HALE, CARE­FUL, AS I’D BEEN TAUGHT, AND I TIGHT­ENED SLOWLY ON THE TRIG­GER

The Weekend Australian - Review - - Books -

And so it did seem pos­si­ble that this desert had once been pop­u­lated, and that I had been born too late. In tens of thou­sands of years of hu­mans, I had shown up just 25 years too late, and I was an­gry about this, even at 11 years old, an­gry at my missed in­her­i­tance. THE pickup slowed and we turned down a gul­ley and on to a beach of large smooth stones. We halted, and there was no dust. The creek low, no more than a foot of wa­ter, but fairly wide, at least 10 yards. The stones a bright­ness of colour un­der the wa­ter, blues and deep liver red, a break from the yel­low grass,

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