ABSTRACT
A story [talanoa] is like a river. And like a river it trickles from the source until it flows flows flows. Down the mountains of the mountains. Branching onto the land the land the land. Flowing. Spiralling. Flowing towards the sea. Spiralling towards the sky. Where it grows wings and flies towards the universe of the unknown. (Figiel, 1999, pp. 3–4)
