[…] night is when the ground heaves up the distracting odours of burrowed life: catfish and reptiles, and the musk of regeneration in scorched roots. [footnote:] Known as underscents, these odours hover beneath the buoyant smells of dung, leaves, living animals and even slaughter.

Its mouth yawned agape

I would fall down on my knees and I besought God to heal my heart and to forgive my iniquity.

He not only expects his fence to be perfect, he also expects his dongas to be the best workman′s huts in Australia, and that is what they are.