My toes are hanging over the edge as water crashes into the rocks far below. The Pigram Brothers sing of it, but unless you have felt the air whoosh around your own ankles, you just don’t get it. East Kimberley sunsets are silent. No one speaks – terrified to break the symphony of colour. Punk orange-pink fades to jazz lounge violet, then the curtain draws in readiness for Act 2. A salt shaker begins its journey across black. There is no moon. My feet have disappeared into the darkness below and I am invisible.
Image: Tracie McMahon