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  • We can see the clouds rolling in across the sea, thick and black. He leaves me at the top of the path with Dagg the Dog and the backpacks while he goes to fetch the car. Dagg whines, walks around my legs tangling us both in his lead, sniffs, looks for somewhere sheltered to lie down but we're completely exposed out here. False Bay stretches out below us, a conglomeration of sandy beaches, rocky shores and dark grey sea.

    Drops hits the dust like golf balls, each drop a meteor, leaving a crater just for a moment before they dryness overwhelms it.

    By the time he arrives with the car the dust has turned to mud, Dagg is distressed but I'm laughing, hands upwards.

    Petrichor. The scent of rain on dry earth. It smells like life.

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