I have a leather satchel that’s getting a little worse for wear. It’s sitting here on the bench beside me. It goes with me. I wear jeans most days, and most of the pairs of jeans I have outlasted in these past years have perished because the fabric…
I remember the grainy start of a day, the light rotating on the clouds from the bottom-lit night orange to the dirty pink tops and faces, arranged behind the city silhouette somewhere near the origin of Parramatta road: the most primeval of Australian ways, the first of our journeys. [http:…
The plastic box contains a disjointed collection of fishing tackle: the aggregate of summer holidays, a tangle of failed temptations. Take out the plastic hand-lines and stack to one side. The cork hand-line is more interesting. It can sit on its own. A small box full of lead. Hefty. Dense.…