Story
To Own is to Witness
There is always a part you cannot own, claim, make belong. That’s life. I do not know why others travel – be it tourism, escapism, or adventure. I never clarify…
A Meeting on the Clarence
There’s a documentary series on telly right now in “Australia” – I Was Actually There. In it, people who experienced defining moments in our recent history share their story. The…
It’s a nice day for the pokies (Lest we forget)
I’m in the studio audience of a quizshow hosted by an Aussie sporting legend. Only one contestant remains – a bloke around my age. There are maybe 50 of us…
Blood Ties
I’m sitting in a trendy restaurant in Zadar, Croatia, with my parents and older sister: the type that serves truffle pasta and squid ink risotto. Outside, the street is lined…
The Weight of the World
There are reasons there are whole groups online dedicated to sharing the pitfalls and issues one can face when occupying a larger body. There’s a hesitancy in discussing it, as…
Dancing Like a Fool
“I’m here to seduce you,” the dancing woman declares. I’m not sure how to respond, so I giggle nervously. My friends and I have been admiring her for several minutes.…
Why a Bear Meat Vending Machine Could Be a Good Thing
Veganism, a growing awareness of biodiversity loss and an increase in consciousness around animal cruelty has meant that our image of hunting these days tends to be negative. Considering the…
Babysitting in Beauty Parlours
I’m sitting on a garish, shredded red sofa inside a barber shop that doubles as a women’s-only threading parlour at the back. I’ve just been handed a drooling baby to…
Prairie Dogging in Tokyo
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.
Going Home to a Place that Doesn’t Exist
I came to discover my family is from a place that is the butt of a nationwide joke: Molise, Italy.
Capital T(okyo)
One Month Before Departure I know I can’t be the first queer person in my family. But as far as I’m aware, I’m the first one who’s out and open. …
First-Generation Guilt
It was my sister’s 14th birthday party when I first realised my parents’ naivety. Henna ran upstairs wiping mascara-coloured tears with the back of her palm. I turned to see…