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When We Were Six: An Ode to My Youth
I was six, and we were the sun and the moon, radiant and bright. Riv had inky black hair, eyes like wet mud smeared across gold and an olive complexion, stars sprinkled across her flesh in the form of freckles. I stood next to her, hair closer to white than blonde, porcelain skin and eyes…
March 28, 2019
Yarns
Where Air is Water
I wish I had taken ballet as a kid. The pirouettes I force myself into, avoiding seemingly inevitable collisions with scooters and cars, on roads that have no sidewalks to speak of and drains wider than a cat is long, would make my grandmother proud. Add to that the scrapes on my hand and pride…
July 26, 2018
Features
The Astray Guide to Being a Yoga Wanker
The Enlightened /ɪnˈlʌɪt(ə)nd/ (noun): A group of people who religiously practice yoga, and whose enlightenment through the practice turns inwards and into semi-delusion as to their “goodness”. Synonyms: Yoga wanker, the author * The Enlightened are a fun bunch. They’re the ones calling themselves "yogis" and talking loudly in the organics store about how much they…
April 24, 2018
Yarns
In the Hours After Ink
“You know this is painful spot, yes?” “Yeah man, all good” I reply, full of false bravado and anticipation. The understated industrial style studio is clean. My artist has just finished preparing the bench and the smell of antiseptic is still strong in the air. An arrangement of indoor plants and succulents sits on the…
April 4, 2018
Features
Tourists on Scooters: Why So Many Dickheads?
“Terima kasih. Terima kasih,” I repeat over and over, till my throat goes dry and the Indonesian words of gratitude become a meaningless, Australian-flavoured gibberish. I wince. And fiddle with the label of the plastic water bottle that Ketut pressed gently into my hands. Made chucks me a toothy grin and tells me to breathe…
February 18, 2018

Astray is a storytelling project centred on travel, place, culture and identity.

We’re run by a team of writers who mostly live, work and play in nipaluna / Hobart. With reverence, we acknowledge the Tasmanian Aboriginal people as the traditional and ongoing custodians of trouwunna / lutruwita / Tasmania: land that was stolen and never ceded. We pay our respects to Elders past, present and emerging.