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Each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. My family seemed happy enough, but when my mother died my father rejected his children. As I contemplated a reunion I wondered if he would recognise me. It had been seven years and he had recently been diagnosed with dementia.
My generation of Australians grew up with bigotry: the cordial loathing between Catholics and Protestants has faded only recently. But only when I married into a Greek family did I learn of the bitter and complicated antipathy of the Greeks for Albanians.
The first known suicide document is an Egyptian New Kingdom papyrus entitled 'Dialogue of a World-Weary Man with his Ba-Soul'. In 1996 my sister Jacqui killed herself. Three years later our cousin Andrew did the same thing. Suicide has always been part of the human condition.
In Australia it would beggar belief to see elderly nuns directing garden hoses against the fires that threaten their convents. But that is what happened last week in Greece. Australia and Greece resemble each other in many ways, but not in the way they cope with fire.
Malign influences seeped into the cracks that brain damage had caused, and in his mind flowered into poisonous paranoia. I found myself facing a most complicated bereavement: mourning the living is often worse than mourning the dead.
Les Murray describes himself as a poet who is religious rather than a religious poet, and celebrates a sense of wonder and mystery. In an increasingly secular age, poetry has a new function as an alternative or complement to religion.
Australian Shareholders Association says the BrisConnections 'lifeline' offered by the Macquarie Group won't cover 'the bulk of desperate investors'. Sometimes bad things happen to good people at the mercy of the clever and the greedy.
My brother, who has been working with the SES, tells me of the eerie silence in the burnt-out bush: there are no birds. He also tells me of quirks of fate: some chooks had a miraculous escape, as did their owners, who later collected 40 eggs.
As the bush scents drift, I remember: the aroma of fish and chips floating along the platforms at Flinders Street Station; the smell of dust that heralds a storm, as moisture hits bone-dry earth. When your life is sliced in two by migration, you do not scorn nostalgia.
The modern Olympic torch relay was initiated by the Nazi leadership in 1936 to uphold the image of the Third Reich as a dynamic and expanding influence. Those who extinguished the Beijing torch in protest against human rights violations in Tibet recognise its origins and potency as a political symbol. (April 2008)
We know it's a suffering world. Many of us plod through a vale of tears, often forgetting to count our blessings. Yet once in a while we are stopped dead in our tracks. By the human, which occasionally turns out to be the miraculous as well.
There are no soothing words to truly quieten deep pain, but Fugitive Pieces shows redemption is a possibility, even in the face of undying memories.
169-180 out of 200 results.
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