M.: Four Nights Only

"We had a smattering of rain yesterday," I said.

"Yeah, just enough to get the cars dirty," she laughed.

"Honestly, I had to look for the windshield wiper," another taxi driver confessed.

It was a brilliant four nights up in a country town where I lived by the wisdom of the local cab drivers and had to keep vigil overnight in the ED of the hospital.



This small town at the border was built by Canadians, or so they tell me. Two Canadian brothers initially came to develop a town, but soon had to leave due to the scarcity of rainfall and water.

It was only when the wonders of irrigation were revealed to them that they realised that they had a solution to their woes - this town sat right next to the Murray river, and would supply all the water they needed. With this knowledge in hand, they returned to the dusty lands of M., and started redeveloping. Two hundred years later, and this town now sits on a population of thirty to forty thousand, and is still growing.

I didn't have the pleasure and was not afforded the time to travel around, but what little I have seen makes me curious enough to want to return.

This town, born out of ingenuity in a land normally uninhabitable; where the endless horizons below are as vacant as the skies above it - it's calling to me.