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In Van Diemen’s Land And when they hit the wallaby, the thud reverberated through his hands as if they’d blown a tire. But when he saw the blood splay out behind the car, and then the whiV of death leap up on its hind legs and kick him, hard, his wife’s intake of breath, Oh God, transformed the mundane into the exotic. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. They stopped—what had they done?—surveyed the damage, the carcass smeared so far along the road no passerby would ever guess its lineage, though history, settling in with its old load, try and convict them, and stars begin to spark the whites of their eyes in the aboriginal dark. 7 ...

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