We are sitting on two unstable plastic chairs on a grassland
connecting a crowded camping ground with a woodland of
ferns and bushes. We finished dinner more than two hours
ago. Bits of food have dried up on the plates in front of us.
Candles flickering. Every now and then insects dive into their
wax. Over at the gate the howling of a motor. A car enters the
camping ground, its front lights brightening the corners and
walls of the metallic labyrinth of vehicles and caravans. The
car continues to roll along the small passages and eventually
turns towards us leaving the area of trees and vans behind.
From my seat it looks like a white Toyota Ute with some
coloured patches on the door, something is written on it. The
car is now between the camp ground and us, maybe twenty
metres away from our table. Then the Ute passes ours and
continues towards the forest for another thirty meters. Fumes
fill the air. Finally it stops out on the field. The lights switch
off. Silence. The driver’s door opens and someone steps outside.
A torch flickers, the silhouette of a man. He walks over to the
back of the car. He is searching for something. We can hear
heavy boxes being moved and stacked. A sigh. Silence. Every
now and then a dog is barking somewhere in the distance
and another one answering from the camp ground behind us.
We blow out the candles but remain seated in our plastic
chairs. It is almost full moon, enough to see his contours. He
is sitting next to his car on the grass, leaning against the back
wheel. The two dogs are barking again. With the first rays of
sunlight I wake up. I open the door quietly and get out of the
van. It smells of early morning and of wet grass. The white car
is gone. In the morning sun the woodland at the end of the
field seems much further away than it did last night. I turn my
back to the trees and walk towards the campground.
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