Nieuw Holland

Fields of megafauna, legends in our eyes. Beneath a confected dune, I spilled some water from a glass jar and watched as it disappeared into yesterday. We pitched a tent on the beach, listened to the dingo howls, and prayed for rescue. The locals don't seem to mind us being here, though we are invisible to them, of their past. The animals' eyes glow softly in amber, rare mosquitoes frozen in space. As time washes our shorelines away, we struggle with this eternal fear of obsolescence. We'll never know what it was like before we arrived; and they, after we have gone.


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