Sunshine envelops my body as I leave the coffee shop, hands gripped around a pair of takeaway lattes. It’s a sunny day in Lockport, a town of stone and concrete. The streets radiate and amplify the sun’s rays, turning them into heat. It’s spring in upstate New York, and this warmth still feels like an…
“Will you be okay on your own?” the driver asked me, pulling to a stop.
“I’ll be fine, thank you.”
I’ve been doing this for long enough.
I yanked my backpack off the back of the buggy and wandered over to the little tent that was mine for the next five nights. I’d been solo traveling for months…
I had just stepped off the ferry on Minjerribah – or North Stradbroke Island – when I discovered my home state South Australia had slammed the borders shut to Queensland. Bonnie, a girl I had met 30 seconds prior, broke the news, spiralling any plans I had for the foreseeable future down the drain.
“I’m…
I was sitting in the living room with my parents when the news of the first lockdown came out. The three of us, clutching onto coffee cups like lifelines, stared up at the screen as history unfolded before us. There’s something chilling about your mind being stuck in a loop of paranoid questions, and ours…
"Farkkk. Well, there go our winter holiday plans.”
As Gladys announced the NSW-Victorian border closure, I felt my heart sink. It wasn’t unexpected, just another shitty trick in the shocking magic show that has been 2020. I closed my eyes. The spark of hope that had been a planned roadtrip during an otherwise dreary year…
In front of the hills of Arthur’s Seat, Margherita Nerini-Garcia stands before the Mornington Peninsular shore. Margherita, my nonna, pulls off her dress and throws herself into the water like a puppy without a lead. She lifts her feet, kicking the buckle of the current from underneath her. It is here, in the surge of…
Every good road trip starts with a morning after pill. The morning after pill is basically the same as time travel and is particularly good bought from a pharmacy in a one-street town just off the highway three hours inland from Sydney.
The road started to wind as we ate pies and ascended into Kosciuszko…
Where to look when things feel dire
When my grandfather was a punky British 14-year-old in 1944, he would stand at his bedroom window watching the bombs fall on London from a (reasonable) distance while his mother and little sisters huddled beneath their kitchen table. When I talk to him on the rusty landline 70…