This piece speaks to a quiet moment of return, of going home to my own Country and sitting beside the riverbed, almost dry now, but alive with memory.

Crouched low, drawn to rock and sediment, exposed by the retreated water. There was silver glinting in the dirt, shards of quartz catching light, and layers of stone pressed together over thousands of years. The ground was speaking, telling stories in its colours, its cracks, its shimmer. Each rock held time, each grain of sand shaped by water and weather and waiting.

This work holds that moment. Of seeing beauty in the broken and dry places. Of finding connection in place. Of recognizing that, like the riverbed, I too carry time and experience, layered, weathered, still shining.