‘I lost my own father at 12 yrs. of age and know what it is to be raised on lies and silences’.
Ned Kelly was the last and greatest of Australia’s bushrangers, or rural outlaws, and still the country’s most legendary hero. He was captured after the police laid siege to the township of Glenrowan, in up-country Victoria, in June 1880, and hanged in Melbourne later the same year. The followin…
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‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
Peter Carey on Alexis de Tocqueville, writing fiction and the inspiration for his forthcoming novel.
‘You might think, who is this, and I might say, this is God, and what are you to do?’
‘We talked about Alison’s blood. We asked her what she thought this mystery could be. Really what we wanted was to be told that everything was OK. There was a look on Alison's face when she asked. I cannot describe it, but it was not a face seeking medical “facts”.’
‘He knew that he did not want it to stop, that he could not escape the grip of this terrible excitement.’
Fiction by Tom Crewe.
‘The stone is cold; touching a leaf is like touching skin.’
A botanist’s assistant longs for her lover in this extract from The Weeds.
