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ROADKILL AND LOATHING IN SOUTHERN TASMANIA: PART 4

For Rusty

We drank Rusty’s whisky last night

Robert Gowty
The Pro Files
Published in
6 min readDec 16, 2024

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By the author with AI

Rusty’s bottle of whisky had sat on the shelf for three years, never to be drunk because that would be to forget him.

At some point, though, it had to be drunk.

We had to drink it because we wanted to remember.

And because we sacrificed Rusty’s whisky — his memory — so we could remember, I must share with you what I remembered.

Some people don’t like city living. They feel crowded in by the people and the buildings. They don’t like the noises or the smells. They seek out the country to put some space around themselves.

Yet country living fostered a different kind of community. Tight knit, everyone knowing everyone else’s business.

While Rusty found a home in the Upper Derwent Valley, he recoiled from this also. A private man, he nonetheless possessed a deep intelligence and life experience which, given the right moment, would bubble to the surface, leaving my jaw dropped to the floor. Expect the unexpected.

I understood. As a writer and artist, seeking out solitude in nature is a natural inclination. Exploring my thoughts and creativity in a crowded, noisy room isn’t easy.

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The Pro Files
The Pro Files

Published in The Pro Files

Fiction, poetry, essays & articles in any form about life as a writer

Robert Gowty
Robert Gowty

Written by Robert Gowty

Extemporal Explorer. Music, art, fiction, science fiction, culture and technology. Tasmanian Existentialism. Aficionado of the number seven.

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