I flew into Brisbane on Sunday 9 January after three weeks in Britain. The pilot on our descent said the weather was not good. It wasn't raining as I got out of the terminal but the humidity hit me like a torpid wall. On Monday, I was just glad to be home. Jetlagged and needing to go to work early the next morning, I went to bed, unaware of the seven billion tonnes of water that had fallen in 72 hours...
to read more: London Review of Books.
The Last Marsh
7 months ago