I recently revisited the Mallee home of my childhood, after an absence of many years. Enough years that the little town seemed magically shrunken, as though the places in my memory had been experienced upon a road of stretched rubber, waiting to spring back into their true shape with a snap. The brevity of the visit added to the sense of the surreal. We stayed just an hour, passing through from the Wimmera. As we approached the town, Travelling on that strangely familiar straight road, I saw the far off little mountain and the towering wheat silos, those sights conjured blearily in my dreams by my childhood recollections, suddenly standing real again before me. In my mind I ordered the places in this town…