This summer's been hot in Fremantle. In the afternoon, the wind comes roaring in from the sea. My home on the hill is lashed by the wind. Tree branches scrape along the veranda's edge and the trees writhe in staccato rhythm.
I've become obsessed by the afternoon light filtering through the trees in the yard. A golden light, glittering through the dancing leaves. Sometimes I find myself staring into the sun. The glass eye of my camera watches unblinking.
