‘Creek Dreams’
by Jo Jones

Perhaps the vestige of the little river is a quantum-bound container of the beginning and the end? After all, the Noongar term for river, bilya or beeliar, is also the word for umbilical cord. In a similar way, maybe the hours I spent in an old pink bath a decade ago, postnatally depressed after the birth of my second child, are inseparable from my own watery entry into the world, from the vast and varied feelings that accompany the arrival of children and even from my own eventual death and dissolution.