Anangu is pronounced arn-ung-oo

When I was a kid I got lost on Tokyo Tower, scaling its upper reaches,
like a character in a Manga novel.
                                                              Because it seemed like the safest thing
to do, to describe what we see, where we stand, how we fall, I have spent
my days pretending to be a human being.
                                                                                 When I was a kid I got lost
on Tokyo Tower, almost blown off like a Japanese tourist, ignoring
the traditional owners of Uluru, the Anangu people, who, for so long,
have kindly asked us not to climb on their altar.
                                                                                       Because it seemed like
there is so little we can say to each other about who we are, what we have
done, or hope to do, or even what happened this afternoon.
                                                                                                               When I was
a kid I got lost on Tokyo Tower, for so many hours, days, weeks, months,
years.
              Because it seemed like the most dangerous thing to do, I have
spent my nights trying to read into the shadows of this experience.
                                                                                                                          When
I was a kid I got lost on Tokyo Tower. They told me I was found a few
hours later, but it’s not true.