This is my final offer: one largish flat rock and one smaller rock shaped kind of like a love heart.
I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...
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In reply to your questions...
The women got the sinew from most animals killed and eaten. I don't know which they preferred but it is a cord or band of inelastic tissue connecting a muscle with its bony attachment.
stone hammers are good. Scrapers, yup.
Mark, he is a hunk.
Roddy, he's already good with money.
Thiên, I swear that we will have enough to build our own island by the end of summer.