“Marbleous”, I sniggeringly muttered to myself. “Fantastico”, said the man that passed me with camera whirring and eyes agog at seeing the marbles for the first time. Those of us passing through a second time, could afford to present an air of nonchalance and look a little more closely at surfaces and overhangs: finely balanced marbles, wedged in place by a sliver of broken rock; iron oxide stain seeping through a crack and adding another feature to the heavily textured surface; and mud nests made by artistic and productive creatures. A woman – the partner of Signor Fantastico – was running to the next bag of marbles: an attempt to beat the sun, which was heading for the horizon and taking with it the beautiful Australian, low-sun glow that brushes everything in its path with a spectacular orange torchlight. My pace had also picked up to cram more fiery baubles into my already saturated eyes: this place is so incredibly photogenic and always there is another photo that must be taken.