Ground fog hung like silver mist over the Townsville Golf Course at dawn, the rising sun a smear of gold above it. The air smelled and felt cool and damp, like summer’s end in Nova Scotia. Today...
In early morning, I sped into and through Bicentennial Park on my bike as though chased by some dark pursuer. Time, perhaps. Each day in this country races by, our days in Australia already totalling ...
