Published in Overland Issue 201 Summer 2010 Main Posts / Writing Terminus Fiona Wright Little remains at track. Creepers, winding where the graded bed has grown so dank and soft it sponges at my toes. I sift the ballast, lift a stone, a sour-milk stem clings to its crevices, clasped in a veinery of roots. Sections of supporting walls remain at street level. The paint flakes scab under my fingers. The sun scrambles for the girders and gridlocked cars reverberate. Their drivers are silent. The blackened bricks leave crumbs on my clothes. Shortly before electrification. When I was young. I curled my fingers off my ticket-stub and caught the slipstream of the shunting carriages. I smelt soot in my hair for days, sour as fear. You never looked behind. Fiona Wright Fiona Wright’s new essay collection is The World Was Whole (Giramondo, 2018). Her first book of essays Small Acts of Disappearance won the 2016 Kibble Award and the Queensland Literary Award for nonfiction, and her poetry collections are Knuckled and Domestic Interior. More by Fiona Wright Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 11 November 202211 November 2022 Main Posts On the last day of Subscriberthon, our amazing online editor gives you one last (very good) reason to subscribe Editorial team What's in store for the last day of Subscriberthon? First published in Overland Issue 228 10 November 202210 November 2022 Main Posts On the second-last day of Subscriberthon, our favourite editor-duo give you reason #1002 to subscribe to Overland Editorial team What's in store for the second-last day of Subscriberthon?