There are few hills out here. Those that can be seen are certainly not mountains – small enough for an enthusiastic child to run to the top, panting and claiming to be king of the castle. Looking out this pretend king would be privileged with an unobstructed view to the edge of the world.
Besides the occasional hill, this landscape is flat as far as the eye can see. The hard red ground is littered – in most places – by tufts of hard grey-green grass and larger shrubs that resemble fuzzy-haired children. Only the very hardy animal or reptile could survive out here.
Far our there, beyond the hill, a dust devil raises itself tall and orange-angry. At its base it is dense with desert sand that whirls and twirls. At its head it is loose and uncontrolled. It looks like a quick-footed woman with long red hair, dancing in circles, making her hair rise and fall in great lashing masses. But the dust devil’s time is limited and shortly its strength will diminish. The sand will settle back to the ground to be warmed by the bursting sun.
Ribboning through this barren land is a silver highway, mostly blanched of colour but still it glistens and sparkles as if it were encrusted with millions of crushed diamonds. Brave travelers scurry along this road in the safety of their cars, admiring the land yet eager to keep moving.
Under the broken dome of blue sky, this land remains untouched. This is Australia.