“Now he stomped out onto that polluted sand at La Per-fucking-rouse and there he removed his Kmart shirt and, with his flesh all a creamy rosy ruin, sat to watch the rusty containers on the distant wharf. Behind, as in an amphitheatre, the dead pressed against us in their serried ranks and I jammed my finger through the wire and wept.14Baldy was in a rage with the sand from La Perouse and, as always, it was personal i. e. mountains had been born and broken--bloody rock, bloody tides, fish were d...ead, shells hollow, corals snapped like bones--therefore the grains of sand now lying on the seat of the Holden ute must have travelled through eternity with the SOLE INTENTION of irritating his pimply arse. Our father Blue Bones was much the same and we brothers cowered before his fury when TRACKED-IN SAND was detected on the carpets of the VAUXHALL CRESTA and then there were such threats of whippings with razor strops, electric flex, greenhide belts, God save us, he had that mouth, cruel as a cut across his skin.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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