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The Writer’s Routine
Six o’clock. Greeting her in the dim light, the mirror on the far wall can only fit a proportionate view of her features. It is small and inornate, but she can see a pair of eyes and ears, a nose and lips. She is a writer, but nobody the likes of Virginia Woolf stares back…
Santa Claus Coffee in Joyful Minowa
The street bustles with a steady stream of visitors. Every now and again, one individual will pause, examining a store’s goods. Amongst this, Papa Noel stands outside too, his thin long-sleeve top protecting him from the chilly wind that moves through the shopping arcade. In one hand, he clutches a thermos; his other holds a…
Nahum in the snow in Hakuba: taken on a weekend trip during an Astray writing workshop in Japan.
Failure to Launch
The legacy of one William Shakespeare specifically outlined the various separate qualities of a tragedy and a comedy: two stories destined never to interlink, telling tales of diverse passions, whether joyful or dour. On the other hand, the legacy of me, you ask? Well, I managed to break down any visible barrier between the two-story…
The Real Tokyo Blues
The black coffee reflects the vague shape of a little boy who thinks he's a man. It's rather off-putting, to be honest. Like the transition stage between looking too young to be considered old, but looking too old to be considered young. He scrutinises this a bit more; his nose is swollen and kinda twisted.…
What The Mountains Shouted Back
“You are not drunk!” It’s two in the morning and I’m shouting at a mountain – I’m definitely drunk. A weekend trip that replaced Tokyo’s highrise buildings with grand mountains was a much-needed breath of fresh air. I was in Japan to encourage my identity as a writer and add some fresh work to my…
Alienation
It’s strange. You arrive to a new land, there are people to greet you. At first you don’t understand; in fact, you don’t understand for quite a while. But speaking your mother tongue never did you any good anyway. Communication was always hard for you. They say things with their hidden contexts and words you…
A Bit of Bad Fortune in Tokyo
During my stay in Japan, I observed a lot of fortune-telling in Tokyo. I write “observed” because I found it difficult to get my own fortune told given that my Japanese extends no further than, “bīru, kudasai” – one beer, please. I write “difficult” because it is a nice way of saying that I was…
Lessons from Japanese Love Dolls
Hi, I’m interested in your collection. *Delete Delete Delete*  Hello, I would like to come and see your dolls. *Delete Delete Delete*  Maybe I should write this in Japanese. Wait, who the fuck is this email even going to. Ok, ok, let’s just Google translate a few ideas. English to Japanese has me feeling…
Too Big in Japan
I can feel my face turning a warm, visibly peachy colour as those uncomfortable, familiar prickles run up my neck, around my ears, even to the end of my nose. The little old lady is huddled over something on the bench with her back to me. I've been standing here for over a minute and…
Night Fishing in Tokyo
The Sumida river flows through Tokyo the way the memory of Fisherman Yoru (night in Japanese) will course through my head, reminding me about the joys of being alive. Months ago, back in Singapore, I met someone who introduced me to a world of illegal fishing. Something about rivers in the dead of the night…

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.