Thirsty, hungry, dirty, tired. These men, virtually camouflaged in their uniforms amongst the charred and parched remains of the Australian bush, are smiling because their shift is over – and because the journalist told them to. I know this because the man on the left is my dad, Mark Murray.Continue reading “And It Was All Yellow: Fires, Floods, & Disaster Prevention”
January 16, 2020 | Sydney
Today I sit with my laptop on my thighs, the breeze blowing in smells of eucalyptus and damp woodchips from the garden my mother has toiled over for the last few months. It rained. Instead of the cracked sharp air of a starved landscape, there’s no smoke.
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