Near my home in Humpty Doo there’s a spot where locals dump animal carcasses. I often return there, taking a path across the marsh to look at the latest junk. One evening I was photographing bones, standing on my car to get a higher perspective, and a battered ute rolled up through the bush. The window wound down and the driver stared silently, cigarette in mouth.
He eyeballed my large tripod and rooftop position and drawled quietly “you... must...really...like...bones”. His face was in shadow but I recognised him as a friend's dad from high school. He continued staring with an empty expression and drove away, cigarette smouldering. Soon after I heard the crackle of burning spear grass, which in the dry season grows tall and highly flammable. A fire was spreading down the marsh track, probably from his cigarette. I wondered whether he set the grass alight on purpose or by mistake.
Humpty Doo makes me paranoid like that.