Shane Wolfe

Where the river crept out from behind the dunes, brown as tea, we turned off the road in my uncle’s station wagon and roller-coastered around a paddock that slumped into the sea, a furious spot where trees grew sideways slicked …

When the door folds shut it’s like a confessional, this bright box of light sucked dry of air — a toilet, a basin, and me in the mirror’s broad expanse, barely a foot from nose to nose. Here I’m obliged …