We take the Flinders Highway, the road that we will follow for hundreds of kilometers, an asphalt ribbon that from the coast points to west, straight to the red heart of the continent. The landscape can be even more desolate than yesterday: no more trees in the scene, leaving behind an ocean of yellow grass. Traffic today is a bit more sustained, roughly fifty cars in total. The big event of the day is the passage of two trains. It’s hot, the wind rolls dry bushes like in western movies. But when we complain about the temperature with the locals, they look us with fun – is this hot? Try to come back here in summertime…
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