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Alone, behind the wheel, eager to drink. I travelled around Australia in a van writing poetry as I went. The vast, unrelenting landscape unveiled tough truths, yet emanated an aura of magic that helped map my way through extensive emptiness. People were candid and kind, always eager to share their stories with this smiling, mullet-wielding stranger. The stories, that stitch the fabric of this land, are far from unsullied, they are blood-red like the earth, torn from scarred skin and spoken in trembling tongues. But at their core is a uniquely Australian beauty, of which I try to express.