km 333, half way to hell

on the side of the road, scrawny kids, travel dirty, wait under the shade of dwarf palm trees. some stick their thumbs out, most gave up on the kindness of strangers some time after the sun reached its midday summit.

I wonder if I will ever again be on the roadside, or if I'll ever be the kind stranger. a lifetime ago, maybe.

30 degrees.

black, shimmery pools of imaginary water reflect back the sky on the tarmac.

when I was young I would dream of the car diving in, water everywhere, and a long swim into the depths of the highway, to where it's really going.

the sky breathless with the haze rising upwards. a lonely tero eating carrion off the melting road, taking flight just when. bugs on the windscreen.

somewhere out there, a fortress.