There doesn’t seem much point in drawing attention to blackbirds or high tides when five thousand people are said to have died in the towers, when people in wheelchairs had to be left by the able-bodied because the lifts weren’t working and there was no time to step a wheelchair down the flights and flights of stairs … The images play on, over and over, as though if they are repeated enough...

I was running a workshop in the Kimberleys, and in the circle a woman began to speak from a place of deep pain and despair. She described herself as bad, dirty, ugly, words she had taken into herself from childhood experiences of abuse. I lent forward and sang her a song. 'How could anyone ever tell you, you are anything less than beautiful?' While sitting with her, as the words settled...