M
is the mile or two between Skenes Creek – magnificent waves curving into
beaches before green hills every moment – and Apollo Bay. Old milestones of
another moment were souvenired for someone’s backyard monument. M is the mind,
mulling alternative plans this September now no tourist buses and cars of
schoolchildren multitudinously mill, business a trickle. M is the mile of Ocean
Road at Wye River where Christmas fires left hillsides vulnerable to flood,
landslides coming down everywhere, the Road splitting and edging into the sea.
M is the mounds of uprooted ashen earth that have closed the Road, stopping
everything.
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