Hot in the city
I don't try to do fancy pants 'evocative' writing much. But someone asked me to write about a hot day in Melbourne once, and it went in a magazine.
The air is too hot to be local air. Surely it is air that’s been sucked out of smelters in Mount Isa or the dry river beds of the unforgiving Centre. Scorched February air that burns cheeks and packs a sensory punch as it’s inhaled, warm at the back of the throat like a coffee.
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