'There’s a bridge across the Burdekin River. The locals call it “The Silver Link.” A piece of pride and symbol of belonging for the community. A connection between north and south, and to a past where people imagine things were better and more prosperous. In harder times it is a reminder of this past prosperity and becomes a way to reimagine. “Paint it pink,” they said. It’ll bring in the pink dollar. I’m not sure they realised the “pink” lot might not want to spend their dollar here. Anyway, then it wouldn’t be “The Silver Link.” A link that spans an eons-old course that nonetheless is made new each year. A waterway that over millennia snakes up and down the coast undulating and fanning in different directions. Moving glacially. But sometimes raging. Sometimes taking those we love from us. Always someone’s child.' (Introduction)