Out in the middle of the outback, where the sun beats down early each morning, yet with nights that plummet to the coldest depths, there is a land.
The soil is a deep red and is as fine as an exquisite cosmetic powder and there is a story, in fact millions of stories that date back thousands of years. To the ones who were truly born to this land, this is, was and always will be their place. They know true survival skills and know how to make this land work in their favour.
To a tourist, there is a unique quality about the quietness of the place, but they are unaware of the truths within. To the indigenous of this land, I wonder what they hear and feel when they wander these plains. I am amazed by their naturally born instinct. Their art and use of story telling.
Their stories are told through fine art of ochre patterns and patient work. Glorious patterns tell tales of families and their connections and their traditions. Their dancing tells stories as do their songs. They are the original artistic story tellers.
When others look at a photo of the outback, they just see a never ending horizon of red dirt, rock and scrub. Within that red dirt, rock and scrub there is a nation with wisdom tens of thousands of years old.
@FKerr154
Comments