Back Country

I spent a week in the back country; over 300km inland where the green, arable coastal strip fades into semi-arid scrubland and dust. The first time you go out west the thirsty, lean country is an affront: half dead and empty, the land is broken, hard and ugly. But it seeps under your skin, you breathe in its rhythms and sink into dreaming out there, with the big sky reaching over you and the dust creasing your skin. ( Breathe it in... )