'As a nop (boy) and later as I grew into a mamman (man) I travelled on many many bidi (roads), driving past a lot of placenames and signage across the south-western boodjera, or Nyungar country. At first, as a family, we drove out mainly from Walwalingup (Fremantle), up South Street, across to Armadale Road, left onto Albany Highway and right onto Brookton Highway. Over the coastal plains, up and onto the Kaarta (Darling Ranges), out through the forests and eventually to the cleared paddocks to the east until we reached Kalkarni (the home fire —Brockton) (Thomas). The Nyungar placenames always caught my attention—towns, national parks, hills, rivers, streams, forests and railway sidings—standing tall like sentinels, their words in my language telling the direction and distance to the destinations that I journeyed to many times with my family and loved ones. Whether driving through the day or night, the placenames always haunted me, mile after mile, and later, kilometre after kilometre. Many of the signs I didn't understand nor was I able to read them properly and so I didn't know what they were really saying to me. But the signage always stood patiently by the roadside as though waiting to reflect a coded message to me.' (Introduction)
