Another hot day, more straight road.It's littered with roadkill, mainly kangaroo's, some split into three sections, head, torso and tail, often metres and metres apart. Birds, crows and huge eagles feat on their carcasses, some crushed and torn, some rotten, some fresh, some no more than a blood spot on the tarmac. They take flight at the last possible moment as we thunder along the straight strip, soaring in front of our windscreen, too close, the eagles wingspan close to the width of our van. I can smell the engine, nothing unusual, nothing new, nothing wrong, yet. Up ahead water pools on the road, disappearing into nothing as we close in on it. I'm thirsty, my bottle empty until we pull over to fill it from the boxes weighing down the back of our van. I'm craving its warm nothingness.
