EARS! Some are small, some are giant.
Some work great and some need a little bit of help.
And there's no doubt every set is individual.
From the outside my ears look like your everyday run-of-the-mill Dumbo wings, but on the inside they're a biological miracle that help me do what I do best - write stories about the people I meet.
Travelling on the five-day Anzac troop train re-enactment journey this week, many people commented on the notepad and pen I carried from carriage to carriage.
Sure, they're important tools, but without my ears I would not have heard hundreds of wonderful stories.
The stories started to flow in Winton on Sunday and they ended as we stepped off the train in Brisbane late on Friday.
Ted Kirk's Second World War regrets; young soldier Ben McDonald's devastation at losing his best mate; the heartbreakingly beautiful story of Elizabeth Robbins's letter to the War Office after her eldest son perished at war.
These were just the tip of the iceberg.
While some stories were broken by gentle sobs, others ended in uproarious laughter.
It didn't matter if the yarn was about war or it was about knitting - every word was valuable.
My only regret?
Not being able to write everyone's story. All 250 of them!
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