Heart Core Papyrus

I stab my machete into the rain forest slope, hilt up so I don’t lose it. Tip when working a in the thick of the scrub: always leave your tools in a vertical position, or spend most of your time trying to find them again.

I sit down on the soil between a young orange jacaranda and a mango tree, the mangoes vivid orange and green fruit has been gashed by the cheeky flying foxes overnight.

The ground is soggy from days of rain and quickly soaks through my pants. The musk of the seeding mustard grass floats like a mist on the morning air.

I take a big deep breath in and sigh from somewhere deep in my heart.

 

A peaceful green valley lies lusciously before, curving like a naked body, who’s breasts rise into Jurassic cloud-catching mountains, the sentinels of an ancient volcano.

Wollumbin.

It’s all a…

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