'The afternoons when Murray got home first, he liked to take the dog for a walk down to the foreshore. In winter the fat palms shivered. Murray spent his days with trees. Naming them, measuring them, collecting the soil they stood up in. He lived in St Kilda for thirty-odd years, but sometimes the sour smells of rotting seaweed and dim sims and car fumes still surprised him. he had habit of sniffing his fingers to see if they still smelt of the forest at the end of the day. They never did, but sometimes his nails were still caked with soil.' (Introduction)
