Witnessed on the southern Great Barrier Reef.
There is no sky like an Australian summer sky at night. After the heat breaks—usually with a violent, theatrical thunderstorm that drops two inches of rain in twenty minutes and knocks out the power—you step outside. The Milky Way is a spill of diamond dust. The Southern Cross hangs low. A fruit bat (or "flying fox") flaps overhead like a leathery omen. australian summer
It doesn’t creep in, the Australian summer. It detonates. Witnessed on the southern Great Barrier Reef
An Australian summer does not arrive; it erupts. It is not the polite, tentative warming of the European seasons. It is a physical weight that settles across the continent, a heavy, humid blanket that drapes over the cities and bleaches the outback bone-white. The Milky Way is a spill of diamond dust