Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 At last Fred reached the end of the red sausage and found that he could no longer stand for the weight of the earth had settled on his heart. Back to beginning..
Middle
February 23, 2009 By 2 Comments
The Beginning
February 23, 2009 By 3 Comments
Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 The back of the packing shed, my bed, no windows. Down the track from the loading bay… my Grandfather’s bush cot, a bush larder holding several bottles of Bundaberg op rum, hard bread and cheese, the open sky. Under the lean to, always boiling, a billy and [...]
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