I just watched Van Diemen’s Land for the second time, and when they killed the young one, it hit me that it’s been over fifty years since I’ve truly felt that raw mix of hunger—real, gnawing hunger—along with fear and loneliness.
It made me think about how few people might really grasp just how tough it was to live on the fringes, trying to survive in a place where hostility seemed to hang in the air. I wonder if anyone really understands how hard it was to fringe dwell in a nation of haters.
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