Thank you for your email. I’m not working today, but I’m walking to work over Pomona Island. For the journey. Writing an email and walking. Under the grafito there’s a sign for me to follow. I can’t read it but I already know where I’m going. They’ve left the gates open and I’m going in. Other than this sign there is no information about the island. No signs or plaques. Nothing in the papers. Nothing about the bounty they brought home from the colonies. Just a few smouldering cigarettes. Some words lying around. Something definitely happened here. The blackberries are relatively early.