Latest Articles

Deputy Editor Kayleigh Greig deep dives into  Grapeshot’ s origins and evolution.   Grapeshot  2009, Volume 1, Issue 1 If you’re reading this, you probably already know a bit about us, but just in case: this is Grapeshot , and we’re the student publication here at Macquarie University. That means that every one of our issues has been entirely made by students, for students. Of course, since its inception in 2009, Grapeshot  has changed a lot over time. So, for Nostalgia , let

News Section Editor, Chantelle Mackintosh, covers the Protests in Nepal against government corruption and how in a few days, changed the course of a nation. In September 2025, thousands of Nepalese citizens took to the streets to engage in anti-corruption protests which became known as the “Gen Z protests.” These protests began after a nationwide ban on many social media sites which combined with the display of corruption and wealth by their government in their mismanagement

Editorial Assistant Siya Pujari discusses this vexed issue with Professor Niloufer Selvadurai There has been significant movement towards introducing effective regulation for AI-centric technology, including apps and tools that allow for illegal ‘deepfaking’ of individuals and facilitate online sexual abuse. ‘Deep fakes’ are AI-generated videos, images, or audio recordings. They include ‘face swaps’ where a person’s face is replaced with another and ‘voice deep fakes’ which i

Editorial Assistant Imogen Grebert discusses the extensive course cuts happening at UTS and how this will further debilitate Australia’s teacher shortage. On 17 September 2025, the University of Technology Sydney (UTS), announced that it will be closing its School of Education, as well as Public Health and International Studies, as part of a cost-cutting initiative to save over $100 million. As a result, it means the loss of over 400 jobs for University lecturers, tutors and

Editorial Assistant Juliette Allen tackles the various tremendous losses suffered upon the gentrification of Sydney’s cult landmarks, Paddy’s Markets being one of her nearest and dearest. For many Sydneysiders, like myself, Paddy’s Markets  in Haymarket is a vibrant microcosm and a longstanding beating heart of the City, and in a lot of respects, still is, despite all its changes. For many, Paddy’s  ‘is not just a market, it’s an Australian icon and an integral part of Chinat

Editorial Assistant Elizabete Lasmane muses over her complicated relationship with nostalgia and its romanticisation, presenting itself as a double-edged sword of an unshakeable dilemma. Nothing ever hurts us as much as our thoughts. And nothing ever heals us as much as our thoughts. It's all about perception: no matter the event, conversation, situation—it is a thought or an insight changing your perception. Well, my perception is that nostalgia’s a nasty bitch.  Nostalgia f

Nathan Colebrook contends that Charlie   Kirk’s death was symbolic of an elusive monster, and we have only ourselves to blame; an alternative perspective on the mystique of nostalgia. 4-(2-Aminoethyl)benzene-1,2-diol. A synthesis of tyrosine and DOPA. The substance is a catechol, where the hydrogen that would normally slot in at the 4 th  position on the benzene ring is, instead, substituted for a 2-aminoethyl group. It occupies the role of a cardiotonic drug, a beta-adrenerg

Ash reflects on their discoveries of being neurodivergent.  Discovering I was neurodivergent when I was 19 led me to feel a mixture of emotions; I felt like I finally had answers to the questions I didn’t even know I was asking, but I also mourned the person I could have been if I hadn’t grown up undiagnosed.  I reflect on my childhood, and the signs of ADHD and autism are like neon lights; how did nobody realise? I unfortunately know the answer to that question; I was AFAB a

How does Grapeshot  work? Why does it take so long for issues to hit stands?  Deputy Editor Kayleigh Greig answers your questions and more. All content within our beloved Grapeshot  is produced by currently enrolled MQ students. That includes the writing, editing, illustrations, layouts, cover art, and even the social media posts. Our team consists of a dedicated group of student volunteers run by our Editor-in-Chief, with help from the Deputy Editor(s), who are also students

Editorial Assistant Rahima Bilgrami reminisces on the unmatched childhood delight of discovery. She lovingly recounts the first rifles through a treasure trove—her mother’s makeup bag. When I was a child, there was no object in our home more mysterious or magnetic than my mother’s makeup bag. It was never left entirely in the open, though it wasn’t hidden either. It lived in the corners of drawers, on the bathroom counter, and sometimes in her handbag when we were going out.

George Logan examines the familiar stresses of picking the perfect outfit and why we could learn a thing or two from orcas. Going to a friend’s wedding is a stressful affair. Do I bring a date? Should I tell an inappropriate story about the bride to her 90-year-old grandmother? How do I dance to anything other than the Macarena or the Nutbush? These burgeoning questions keep me up at night, yet for all my worrying, a thought much more distressing has only just entered my mind

I don’t even remember writing most of these poems. Did I? Have I lost the memory of it? Is that why I do all this? To make sure that I never forget these things, Big and small That don’t/That do Matter I think it might be. I’m scared of losing all these memories. Feels like water slipping through my fingers, The ocean is shrinking, In my world and ours, We’re going to forget My poems And Earth We have already. Burn the papers Burn the forests Kill the dreams Kill the sky Di

I was at a family friend’s the other day, sitting on their clean, fluffy rug while memories played across the TV screen. The videos had this strange look about them, the camera quality not exactly bad, but lacking the usual sharpness I've come to expect. Blurred around the edges, like the film was covered in a layer of dust. It felt whimsical rather than dirty. I dance across the screen, with a face I don't remember and a body I don't own anymore. A friend sitting next to me

It was a horrible afternoon.   It had been 2 weeks since that horrible afternoon. Today was a nice afternoon. The botanical gardens were beautiful but that didn’t help; it didn’t even matter. He could only feel broken. He was sure a strong breeze would unravel him. The botanical gardens were just as beautiful as the last time he visited. He felt stronger this time. He had re-weaved himself together.  The sun was setting and the daylight was slowly sinking. The darkness would

you know our story, child.  it is terrible and soaked in blood, some cannot tell it, will never tell it but I must, else you and your children will (be made to) forget our great suffering. and it is not meant to be forgotten, no. FIRES BURN. Missiles boom. Men jeer. ali daydreams. Metal screeches. Fires Burn. Warcraft hover. Women lament. yara broken. Waves crash. fires burn. Bricks shatter. Boys cry. hassan red-eyed. Birds screech.    fires burn. Glaring sun. Girls shout. la

i find myself visiting the past more and more yet my memory fails me each time bitter and sweet and everything in between  nothing is tangible anymore and i hate it as soon as the past happens i lose it i can never truly return to it i know that i should sit in the present and dwell here but i’ve never been too comfortable in my own head and i’ve never been too comfortable to leave anything behind either i sit for hours and hours inside each memory i own maybe i’ll see you th

Are you there? Once, my fingers curled around chunks of grass, ripping them from the ground,  throwing them carelessly in the air— the blades squeaking in my palm as my hands curled to fists. I remember the pale green juice they bled,  getting everywhere, staining everything: my fingertips, my knees, my elbows, denim, cotton, and skin. Did you know that grass may be the oldest living organism on Earth? I'd believe it. I heard that somewhere once. I don't remember where.  Are

Two soft cushioned chairs on a balcony faced an ancient willow tree, which grew quietly by a lake. Its gangly branches twisted and drooped, their soft leaves tiptoeing on the edge of the mossy water. The sun had begun to set, casting golden shadows upon the couple gazing at the scene. Eyes squinted from their time in the sun, their hair grey as weathered stone, they sat in silence listening to the distant song of a whip bird. A thousand times they had watched the sunset, yet

I am five years old. Nearly as tall as my older sister. My Papa holds me to his chest, sobbing I have never seen him cry before.  Mama brushes my sister’s hair, She is ten and seems to know why Papa cries, Because she cries too. I cannot understand it, so I hold Papa, My arms are too short to reach around him I settle for patting his sides,  And he speaks to Mama in a strangled voice. If I was older, I would get it. I am seven years old. Taller than my older sister was at sev

Sunlight drizzled the bushwillows. Strolling in the dappled light beneath, Dian cast a hand over the lawn that meandered beneath birdbaths skimmed by starling wings.  “Welcome to our Vale,” she introduced with a swell of warmth, breathing in the baked earth scent of Johannesburg. The folks on a nearby bench raised a hand in acknowledgement of their matron. With a wave back, she kept her eyes on their newest intake for his reaction to it all. Dressed in a safari vest, slacks a

Break out your DVD player because Martha Florence is remembering 7 iconic rom-coms for the best cosy night in.  I would like to preface with a disclosure: you are not about to discover something new. If you’re looking for underrated, relatively unknown movies to add to your watchlist, this is not the article for you. My taste in rom-coms is probably the most generic thing about me, and so I can say with absolute certainty you will have not only heard of, but probably have als

ARIES 21 March - 19 April Wait…what's that sound? Oh, it's your Nintendo DSi calling, and it has your childhood photographs it wants to blackmail you with.  TAURUS 20 April - 20 May You guys think that modern Aussie kids will never understand the pure joy of a  sausage sizzle  at Bunnings, followed by a trip to Video Ezy — and honestly, you're right. Sizzle GEMINI 21 May - 20 June Those jelly sandals aren’t going to create blisters themselves! And I expect to see jeans under

Niamh McGonnell-Hall sends us back to the ye old nostalgia and reveals how our 2000s medieval fantasies are only one layer of reminiscing.  I come bearing yet more gifts for my dear readers, courtesy of my Medieval Literature studies. (Shoutout to Beowulf). Did you ever wonder why a big portion of your childhood was filled with fantastical things? Medieval knights, ladies in towers, dragons, witches, the unbridled spirit of Medieval England perhaps? (at least that's what my A

Escape into 1920s Paris with Niamh McGonnell-Hall as she analyses the duality of anemoia in the film Midnight in Paris. This article contains spoilers for the film Midnight in Paris Anemoia: the deep sense of nostalgia and longing for a time you have never experienced. Sometimes brought on by an object. An old typewriter, an antique chair, the elaborate filigree of 19th-century architecture. The longing for the simplicity or even the novelty of a bygone era is a significant p