The Heart of My Home

I thought that all there was to see had been seen. But then the sun began to drop towards the line on the horizon where the sky connects with the land and it showed me how very wrong I was. The vivid blue of the sky became streaked with ribbons of purple and pink, all blended into one another to form what I would like to imagine a dream would look like.

With the disappearance of the sun the last of the warmth was leeched from the atmosphere. As the stars twinkled above, the temperatures dropped till the chill crept into my bones. With no clouds to trap the warmth, it simply disappeared, although for one exception. The red rock hummed with the heat, a retainer of the sun and its rays.
The photographs with which I attempted to capture the raw beauty were merely a reproduction. Whilst still impressive, it was the feeling evoked from being within its presence that caught me offguard; that feeling of being inferior to the superiority that was radiating from the history of the ancient landmark.

The native people displayed their connection with the heart of their homeland. The contrast between their skin and the natural paints that marked their skin was shocking. The earthy white against the rich black was vivid, and as their limbs moved to the rhythm of the land, were a blur before my eyes.

I was a sceptic, one who couldn’t believe quite what the hype was about. I had heard it was big, but how phenomenal could a rock in a desert be? I was glad to be proven wrong. And my scepticism was justified after all – even I could never have comprehended just how amazingly beautiful this natural formation truly was.

The day I discovered Uluru, Ayers Rock, the heart of my country, will forever be etched into my memory.