Guardian: The day after the great fire burned through central Victoria, I drove from Sydney to Melbourne. For much of the way – indeed for hundreds of miles north of the scorched ground – smoke obscured the horizon, entering my air conditioned car and carrying with it that distinctive scent so strongly signifying death, or to Aboriginal people, cleansing. It was as if a great cremation had taken place. I didn’t know then how many people had died in their cars and homes, or while fleeing the …