Picture a painfully hot and dry summer, the ground so scorching that your feet burn through your rubber boots as you make your way across the yard. You release the cattle from their restricting pen, their endless drone threatening to send you to sleep as the lethargic bodies trudge across the yards toward their stingy feed rations. As you look up at the vast blue expanse of sky, no clouds in sight, you know in your heart that the chance of rain within the next few months is slim to none. You know also that no rain could mean another season with no results, further debt for the family farm – another year of mum and dad arguing over whether or not to sell their land, their cattle, to pay for the ever-increasing cost of feed.
             This scenario is all too common for inhabitants of what is otherwise known as 'the land'. It has become apparent in recent times that Australians hold the very thorough belief that Outback Australia is some sort of idyllic paradise, a glamorous existence. It is painfully obvious that this idea has generated from foreigners, or city-dwellers – people who have never lived through twelve months of a seemingly endless drought, never endured the thought of a non-existent Christmas due to a recently failed crop. The images that spring to people's minds when faced with the idea of the Australian Outback are famous national icons like the fearless Crocodile Dundee, the sturdy akubra hat, a driza bone jacket worn on a misty morning, a land of picturesque scenery. In holding this belief, one fails to explore the concept of a harsh, dry expanse, the endless sweeping scrub and the unrelenting conditions of the unforgiving Australian Outback.
             When of a young age, interaction is thrived upon – interaction with other children, adults, and people of different backgrounds. Children long to be around others, to have some means of communication with people who may be able to show them s...