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The musicians stepped forward, heads close around one microphone. The words of the 23rd Psalm were familiar and re-cast all at once. They met us in hope and in despair in 'the middle of the air'. There was a space of yearning there; the space where artists, songwriters and psalmists send us. That is the place we can be met.
Before that first September, my experience with grief was fairly limited. I was no stranger to death, but I hadn't yet felt the type of grief that makes you ache in places you never realised sadness could reach. My first experience with this was September 2014.
Australia’s priority is clear: self-protection at all costs, no matter the sacrifice required of Timor-Leste. And it’s a theme that continues today: Australia’s neighbourly relationship with Timor-Leste remains one of taking anything it can, not of sharing like friends.
My views on the Middle East have somewhat mellowed since then, due to my own reading and notwithstanding the harassment I and other supporters of Palestinian rights have experienced over the years. Having the then Deputy Prime Minister on our side certainly provided us with the strength to continue speaking our truths.
There are thousands of Australians old enough to remember: hot summers starting before Christmas and tailing off into autumn in the weeks after their return to school; the buddings and flowerings and wiltings in suburban gardens and country main streets; the first chill in the air as they unwrapped their Easter eggs ...
One man rushed at Dewanto and cut him with a machete. The sister claims that the slaughter then began. Blood flowed out under the doors of the church like a river. Was this what she saw then or what she could not stop seeing in her nightmares? Or both? Over 100 died in Suai that day.
In an age where destruction of eco-systems is occurring at a fast rate and sanctioned by governments, these absurdities are lethal for collective humanity. Non-Indigenous support for the Embassy and trees reflects a desire to reverse the absurd lie that human culture and nature are not in a continual, intergenerational relationship.
He proceeded to move in with silence. His eyelash touched her cheek first, then his lips. Only one with an expert heart could get it this right, she thought to herself, as he kissed the right, then left cheek, pressing his fig-lips precisely in the right place.
Translations have a knack for defamiliarising English and how we think language and storytelling works. They also expose English-speaking readers to literary movements and times in history of which they might not otherwise have much knowledge. Work is being done to broaden the published translations we read.
Robert Harris' The Gang of One ranges through Harris' five published books and a number of uncollected poems. Early work grows from his occasionally lonely, knockabout life and reveals not only a talent for catching the essence of fleeting memories and perceptions but also a mordant touch that gives edge to memory.
Three times in the past three years I have received a spontaneous gift in the form of a scarf. The gifts came from three different people, on three different continents. As it happens, there's a shelf in my bedroom cupboard stacked with neatly folded scarves and wraps in rainbow hues. Every last one of them has a story to tell.
The so-called 'confidence gap', where women don't feel as confident in their own abilities as men, is supposed to be a contributing factor to the gender pay gap. The world of sport, where a little self-assurance and showboating has never gone astray, provides some case studies on why that reasoning rarely works.
61-72 out of 200 results.
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