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'On the smallest finger joint of my right hand there is a scar, a tiny, fleshy thing shaped like a heart. I was five, perhaps six. Mum and I were laughing, wrestling, and the sapphire on her engagement ring cut me. The scar it left is something that makes me think of home. It reminds me of the house in which I was born; bottlebrush fence out the front, pea-green roof, black and white cat. My father covered the shed in the garden with white paint, and then we painted a mural on the wall. My grandmother was horrified, but she didn’t know the magic that lies in marking your own home.'(Introduction)
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Last amended 14 Sep 2021 16:43:03
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