I’d never pooed in public. I didn’t want to somehow ever be compared to our former PM Scott Morrison, who shidded himself at Endagine Maccas, allegedly.
I came to discover my family is from a place that is the butt of a nationwide joke: Molise, Italy.
You may think I was in love with her. You would be right. But not in the way you think. She was one of my best friends. We met in year 7 at school, but didn’t become close till after school had ended. We were linked in a way I wasn’t with anyone else. We…
For a few years I lived in the Trastevere district of Rome. I rode a bicycle to work and bought groceries at the market. I lived in a flat at the top of a cobbled alley. All the buildings in the alley were painted a slightly different shade of terracotta; ivy grew on the walls…
I am not a religious person. I consider the existence of god with an agnostic shrug and struggle to understand the conservatism of my church-going acquaintances. Yet on a warm evening in late June, I stood in the mountainous Le Marche region of Italy, knocking on a Benedictine Monastery door.
“Are you sure they know…
Shit. What’s the Italian word for ‘help’?
I frantically wracked my 10-year-old brain and attentively scanned the room for something I could use to pick the lock, or at least draw attention to my current situation.
To my left sat a sink; to my right, a basket full of paper towels. Directly behind me, a…