I jump from the warm, rounded boulder onto a dusty bush track meandering between ancient outcrops of rough stone and silent eucalypts under a painted blue sky.
Time stands still, very still.
Aboriginals here paint with lines and dots so I’m out here looking for lines and dots. Not alot of dots but lotsa lines.
I guess a line, straight or not
is just moving from dot to dot- a lot.
Though a bloke would go broke looking for a straight one.
Out in the big beautiful beyond, lines come in various states of curly.
Wiggly, wobbly, bent, curvy, raggedy, round, spirally-
Just about anything but straight.
Back in the trusty 4×4,
Suns going down, time to head back to town.
The track hits the bitumen – big wide straight with a line down the middle.
Big wide line carves an arrow straight alley between
two lines of post lines, power lines, and sign lines.
Fence lines appear, straining uptight wire.
Houses, lots of houses, all in line at the end of identical straight drive ways
Grates, gates, grids and grills, window sills.
Up, down and sideways
Living between the lines
Though a line can be sublime
Even in aircraft seat design