I took a first look at the secrets of my body during a family camping trip to the Delatite, where we had pitched our tents at the edge of the river down by the willows. Against a pristine landscape, cows grazed on the other bank, the hard grass prickled underfoot and a mangy one-horned goat roamed wild. The goat gave off a pungent stink whenever it passed nearby. Otherwise, we were alone.

One morning my husband took our two small children for a walk downstream to check whether his yabby traps had worked overnight. I stayed behind to read a book. In the ensuing solitude, the hills bore down like giants throwing their shadows across our tents. The gurgles of the river and the chatter of magpies fed my curiosity about the landscape of my own body.