BEEP, beep, beep
This tunnel is one of my biggest fears. I’m driving my car on the M5, about to go through the airport tunnel. Horns are blaring since no one likes peak hour, yet the pace is consistent.
The lights that line the walls start zooming past, and my mind does a little trick.…
I’m a romantic -- always have been; always will be. I love the idea of knowing what the stars have to say, and am also one of those debatably crazy chicks who has memorised every characteristic of every zodiac sign. When meeting someone for the first time, there’s every chance I’ll be spending a significant…
In January, in Paris, I got a pair of black leather lace-up shoes from a second-hand store that weighs your choices and charges by the kilo. The left shoe was sprinkled lightly with mould and the right’s sole was peeling slightly away, but in the shop mirror they looked sleek and well-sculpted, and outside, on…
April 2007
In 1994 in Melbourne, Australia, my dad sat in peace. He had marched and fought, and now could return to the country he’d left, with pride and without fear. 13 years later, we were packed up and heading across the world from our life in Australia to post-Apartheid South Africa.
The anticipation…
It’s 2am in Paris. We haven’t slept or eaten properly in over 30 hours and the De Bercy bus station greets us with the scent of dank mould and urine. An attempt at using the toilet reveals a homeless man passed out on the cold floor and the end of the bus ride from London…
I arrived in Stockholm, Sweden, in the midst of an unprecedented Europe-wide heatwave, the first overt sign of the climate crisis I noticed. My arsenal of heavy duty Kathmandu gear would sadly go unworn.
It was a Friday morning and I made my way to the Riksdag, Sweden’s Parliament, where I knew Greta Thunberg would…
The flight from Darwin to Dili takes barely an hour and a half. Cabin service starts before the seatbelt light’s switched off and descent is announced as I'm extracting the last flakes of a margarine-greasy apple turnover from its in-flight plastic wrapper. A bump-bump landing and we're the only plane on the runway for the…
Screaming, crying, cursing, and shouting. Dried up shit in the toilet, on the loo roll, and on the walls. Toys everywhere. This was my life now. This beautiful Bondi beach house had become my own personal punishment, a jail cell, complete with four kids under the age of 10 who, quite simply, hated me.
I…
“Another trip, then?”
“Yep.”
“How long’s this one?”
“Not sure yet—three months, maybe.”
“I can’t get you scripts that’ll cover you for more than two; you’re also going to need another suitcase just for medical.”
“I know.”
“It’ll be uncomfortable—there’ll likely be fatigue, headaches and joint inflammation in those last weeks. And that’s a best…
The taxi comes to a halt outside Gimme Shelter, an underground rock’n’roll bar in Canggu, Bali. The booze I consumed pulses through my bloodstream and my fried eyes sting and grow heavy with cheap mascara. My lashes crash, reopen, crash. Unsteady and unsure, my frantic fingers get lost inside my wallet and tangle around my…
Celebrating an independence vote in the country I called home
Dili in August is always dry, dusty, tired; parched brown after months without rain and still facing weeks before the wet season rains arrive. The wide flat land at Tasi Tolu on the city’s western edge is a dustbowl; we’re walking there from where we…
The sky was sun-soaked when the gong sung out at eight, rustling the big gum and alerting the kookaburras. We trudged from our sleeping spaces and cereal bowls to gather at the meeting space. It was like every other morning at Binbee, but August brought an uncharacteristic anxiety to our staunchly empowering home.
“Blockade Adani…