“Hear how soft the Warrar laps against these mangrove trunks? Like a wallaby lapping at a puddle. But in my Country the burragurra crashes onto the sand one hundred times louder; the waves are this high,” he demonstrated with a hand at his neck, “before they curl over and kiss the beach with passion, as though they really mean it. The pounding of the surf is the pounding of my heart.” (Introduction)