Hair twisted carelessly back, she squats flat footed - the firm ‘M’ of legs and buttocks, and out front a large round wicker work tray. She bounces peanuts, wispy skins float away, sailing silent on the saline breeze. Evening washes in, ocean displacing shuffled greys. Soft syllables of the mopoke repeating and repeating; drifting to … Continue reading This is My Gravity