watched a beautiful sunrise from bed. made coffee with my ears ringing from the deafening silence out here. drank coffee outside, letting my ears adjust to this rare absence of sound. there is no absence, i'd just forgotten how to hear, again. thought at first the background noise which grew in amplitude was distant traffic, then realised it was the wind. silence reveals itself as the heart of country alive with stories, memories, invitations to journey. felt a pull to walk off, out into the bush, following the sound of the wind. not this time, dear country, not this time. but soon. now, as the passing traffic increases, I can tell them apart; the call of the wind, the call of the land, is louder than any truck, and so, so much older. I fuckin love this country.