Mines Clamp


The old bore-water stained building hung from the sky, its potholed driveway peppered with leaves from the eucalypts swinging just as far overhead. From the road I could see a rabble milling around under a rusty old veranda, and I stopped before I started up the eroded bitumen. The smell of paint-thinner carried on with the sea breeze and I stood out on the footpath for a moment, swilling in the odours of mineral spirits.