Maria My place is pink.
Willow Taste of the salt and sand and wind.
Ada The pale silvery eggs at dusk.
Jennifer Is this where I truly belong?
Abigail I hear the rough sea, although the whistle of the wind grows.
Caitlin I feel the cool breeze blow on my face.
Fahdah I imagine the sounds of the ocean's waves shatter on the grounds covering Cronulla.
Akira I pictured Bennelong trudging in the sand when suddenly he spots a group of bleached out ghosts.
Harvey People, water and rocks.
Wunyi However, Toongabbie also seems mysterious, like a message that is serious.
Greg And we could see the lights of Adelaide shining in the jet black sky.
Yijia When I hear the word Yana, I imagine leaves dancing by and the wind starting to sing.
Becky When I see Kogarah, I see a great big beautiful bay.
Audrey Parramatta looks like a fast working city busy like the white rabbit.
Gordon Darra reminds me of a girls name, Tara.
Dre When I hear this name I remember all my family.
LORNA’S POETIC RESPONSE
Eat this country
Immerse yourself in our knowing
Consume our hindered growing
And maybe we can conversate
In ways we cannot conceive
Speaking words we cannot read
From guides that do not exist, nor we cannot see
No signs in contested spaces
To be eclipsed