Creative

By Edmund Cheng It is a Saturday night in Marrickville, very close to Sunday morning. A party is going on, but without the presence of intimidating security guards, a cover charge and budget-burning $10+ drinks. Rather, I have found an intimate venue (in fact a three-level share house, partially decayed). …

Laura Kenny Some days I look to diaries I once wrote in youthful anguish and uncertainty And floundering embarrassment – and wish for nothing but a paper shredder. But it is only when it’s gone you realise it was progress.

Tia Singh ‘Allah hu Akbar, Allah hu Akbar’ The deep voice of the call for prayer boomed throughout the city. I saw Muslim men with their prayer caps, walking towards the mosque. Out of the ten that passed me, eight turned to stare. Their eyes questioned as they slowed their …

Cameron McPhedran It was the morning of the Federal Budget. For conservatives in Australia, it felt like the night before Christmas. The sweet succor of poverty, hardened hearts and social inequality were what they had been dreaming of. Tony Abbott was licking his reptilian lips and was strapped into an …

Sailing to the edge of the world, I travel with the painter’s daughter We float for miles and miles, over the black and bitter water.   We’re dying every day, but never dead like ghosts trapped in a shell, from where we sit, the world is gray, in this little …

“Love bacon? Like to travel? Hate gravity?” B-Stein fondled his last memories of Earth as he unexcitedly, indiscriminately picked at his breakfast. Terra. Solid ground. It had been three years since he felt the ground, and three years of eating the same bacon every day. And it was the same …