n the early days of 2010 I travelled to Central Australia, a result of always being captivated by the Indigenous Dreamtime and Creation stories that my mum read to me as a child. I spent hours bumping along desert roads in a 4x4 with a soft-focus gaze out into the lonely bush, marvelling at its beauty and imagining its voice as it told the elders, so long ago, about Yeperenye and Mala. The three week trip from Adelaide to Darwin was beautiful and life-changing and epic and all of the words in the thesaurus. During this time, I found peace, culture, history and love, as well as a deep connection to this land; land that was not ours, yet we took it anyway.Perhaps because I have been there and witnessed the strength and beauty of Uluru, or perhaps because I have an empathetic streak that seems to elude the majority of our MPs, but regardless, I feel the need to add my voice to the rumble against climbing Uluru.