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7Waves undulated across the green-blue waters of the bay. Wind flicked sprays of white foam into the air, catching droplets of salt water and scattering them high and far. Boats cut paths through the waves, opening wounds that closed, scarred and faded away within seconds, leaving nothing behind but the heavy waters and the sour stink of their exhaust. The bay marked the southernmost seaward reach of Sydney; a line drawn between bush and urban crawl that came under threat each weekend from tourists, bushwalkers and an array of boats. ‘If it wasn’t for all the boats, this’d be a real peaceful place. Almost like paradise, sea and bush and lots of sky. And close to the city.’ ‘The boats bring the people, my love.’ Moriah raised her face to feel the salty air on her skin. The sun was warm,