How often do we see the full moon bring moisture, clouds, rain, humidity? This Friday night between the seasons of Djeran and Makuru, late June—no clouds, still and clear above, with the first stars shining through. We go up to the river, walk along it and, even though I knew it was there, I was struck by the actual sight of the top two-thirds of the big yellow moon sliding behind and up through the south-eastern horizon, a couple of spreading eucalypts in front of it, silhouetted. We were standing on a limestone hill looking over—the whole scene somehow so old and bony: moon, eucalypt, limestone cliffs layered up and crumbling away, the reflection on the water’s surface—a staircase, so they say, moving as we move; while all around us, nothing but warmth and moisture—drops already settling on cars and bricks—the air thick with it, in a way it not so often is here, without clouds…as if the equator continues its march, pushing south, pushing down.