KATE STROUD
ARTIST, 35
I was in my home when I realised the severity of what was about to happen. I received a message from a friend saying, “My love, it’s going to come inside your house. Charge your devices, pack a backpack with water, snacks. Sorry to sound scary. I love you.”
There was no sleep that night. We walked around in circles not knowing what to do, what to save, saying goodbye to our home, our life as we knew it. The carpet came alive underfoot, pushing our footsteps in waves across the room, tumbling furniture into the brown dark liquid under darkness.
Dawn broke slowly. Something was moving just beyond the house, a cow four times my size washed up to our verandah railing. The panic in its eyes – silently begging for us to help as it struggled to keep its head above water – will be an
