The house looks the same as it always has. As it looked when she was a wife here. When she was a child here, growing up in these sugar cane fields near Atherton that were once her whole world.
The house probably looked like this when her father built it, replacing the more ramshackle dwelling his own father had constructed. Given how flimsy the wooden structure is, she is regularly surprised that it hasn’t fallen down. A house on stilts, like all the other Queenslanders around here.
Ridiculous, really, that such a thing should exist. But it is still here. Like her…
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