Cirrus@Austlit

'High in the hills it was still too hot, although from the back of an airconditioned car you could almost pretend that it was a European winter, the clouds were so grey and low. In the front seat her mother asked the driver the same questions over and over again, mostly innocuous variation of where he was born, or some harmless query about what they were passing. Then, whenever there was a pause she would lean over to ask whether they had bushfires in these hills. This last one never made sense to him. 'Yeees,' he said, drawing the word out, like a wide uncertain smile, although it was clear he didn't understand her...' (Introduction)