ciggerette butts as redemption

And it all comes back.

all that big country red sand vertigo. the exhileration of kilometres passing faster than time. all that too fast breath intake and suspension of comprehension. that spinning out of control in a landscape so ancient, the beating of your heart seems irrellevant in it's speed.

the beauty of an abandoned house. the freedom in isolation. the liberation of being removed from everything familiar and transplanted in country that feels more familiar than your thumbs.

the transcendence of happiness, the removal of illusion. A solo waltz in a fluro lit lounge room to the sound of a distant friend. the romance of drinking by yourself

like a ciggerette flicked from a vechile of a car. the fire returned.