The thing about Australia is distance. If you have a car and the funds to fuel it, you can go anywhere. Anywhere. Drive for days and never speak to another soul. Camp in splendid isolation and never see another vehicle. It does wonders for clearing the head.
In a vast lanscape the small detail becomes the feature. Dainty details. Patterns of colour and form. When my eyes tire of staring into the shimmering distance, its the cracks in the clay pan that hold my gaze.
The clay.
Earth-shaped chards.
Sun-baked
Fired
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