Somewhere on the edge of Sydney Harbour was an upturned and very battered fibreglass dinghy. I liked the way it wore its scars, some of them patched, some not, but neither hidden. I think it was still serviceable and still in use, a bit like an old Venetian building whose history can be read in its crumbling surface, but which is still loved and lived in, it’s the scars that make it interesting.