The Swing of Things

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You arrive at a city. You’re confused by the ticket-eating machines at the train stops and the backwards spiderwebs of the transit lines.


Winter Winds


Outside, the night has turned windy. Even through the closed window, you can hear the rasping of dry leaves in the dark and the slow creak of the unlatched backyard fence. You’re slightly feverish, energetic, immune to the cold despite the shortness of the days. A warm body lays next to you, telling you stories in the hopes that you’ll tire. You don’t, so you roll to your knees and open the window, leaning out to feel the breeze.

St. Kilda: Penguins & Lentil as Anything

It’s officially winter in Melbourne, which means wool socks and a jacket and a tuque. Six of us pile into the van. We wrestle with the stubborn reverse and fiddle with the radio, and then we’re driving through the crisp sunshine across town, Glitch Mob carrying us as we wind around construction detours.