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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

Colors – Halsey Something I Need – OneRepublic Can't Get You Out of My Head – Kylie Minogue 21 Guns – Green Day Space Song – Beach House The Logical Song – Supertramp Replay – Zendaya When You Were Young – The Killers Crave – Paramore 1979 – The Smashing Pumpkins Ribs – Lorde Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F) – Katy Perry Around the World (La La La La La) – A Touch of Class Uptown Girl – Billy Joel Hey, Soul Sister – Train Bring Me To Life – Evanescence We'll Be The Stars – Sabrina

Join Katrina Wang on the quest for the Belt of Deltora as she reminisces on this childhood classic. Remembered like a strange, half-dreamt memory, Emily Rodda's series Deltora Quest is, dare I say, a staple of many Australian childhoods from the 2000s. The covers depicting wild, fantastical and wholly unique monsters are a stark memory in my mind, and for those who have watched the Japanese anime adaptation, the opening notes are a chorus of quite literal bells, clear and re

Donitella Navusolo explores the sentimentality of a childhood home that feels more special than the rest. Most of us have the one childhood home we remember more vividly than the rest. So, what makes that one place rise above all others in our memory? Ask anyone where home is for them, and out of all the houses they have lived in, they will usually have a favourite. The one with that creaky step on the staircase, or the one with the big tree they used to climb in the backyard

News Section Editor Chantelle Mackintosh highlights the issues of nostalgia and transphobia while discussing the differences between public treatment of J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman. Everyone knows of J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman, but we don’t spend enough time delving into their similarities, and more importantly, their differences. Both authors were born in the 1960s, both wrote highly successful novels that were adapted for the screen, and both had controversies around the

Creatives Section Editor, Nirvana Prasad, reflects on looking back on childhood experiences and the feelings that are elicited. Childhood. It’s supposed to be a good time. When you think back on it, you should remember smiles, laughter, bright colours, happiness. But things are never that simple, are they? Somewhere along the way, things stop being so fun. Life starts to become more stressful, less enjoyable. Maybe when you look back, your jaw clenches with a feeling you ca

Editorial Assistant Daniela De Vera ruminates on the new era of communication, and the therapist that lives inside our devices. I have a confession to make. Once, and only once, have I turned to the unending knowledge and capabilities of AI and asked for its advice on an infatuation I had at the time. My meticulous typing on my dilemma and the intricate circumstances was received by this thing ; a no face, no voice, no heartbeat thing with no feelings or experiences to share.

With a twist of humour, Amy Condren recalls the touching and unusual awakening of her love for dance. I will never forget the first time I heard ‘Toxic’ by Britney Spears. Too young to enrol in classes, I sat on a lap in the middle tier of a school hall for Dynamic Dance end of year showcase in 2005. My spectacled older sister wore cowboy getup and tapped her feet nervously to ‘Cotton-Eye Joe’. When her chaps fell down on stage, I remember my mother’s tears. My brother wore r

Follow along with Deputy Editor Kayleigh Greig in her journey of inspiration, and find out if she catches the venomous snake or not. 2010 It seemed like the entire facility had ceased work. Men in hi-vis vests paced in the foyer, burly arms folded over their chests. Their furrowed brows hid under a thin layer of grease, their stubbled mouths downturned. My mom, blonde curls cascading down her back, seemed as starkly contrasted as a daffodil in a graveyard. She grinned broad

In the height of the global discourse surrounding climate change, the author remembers the year she first felt the extreme turn of seasons. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about middle school. Specifically, eighth grade—when the winter hit so hard that people rushed to buy sweaters and jackets in a city that had never needed them before. I grew up in the same town, in the same neighbourhood, and went to the same school until I graduated. It was a medium-sized city in Wester

Editorial Assistant and pop culture expert Amy Condren reminisces the popular TV show, Pretty Little Liars , discussing the show’s hits and misses. WARNING: SPOILER ALERT! If you have not watched the show, read at your own risk. Some things are at the perfect level of ridiculous where, if you squint , they become fabulous! At least, that is what I tell myself. Growing up with an endless stream of weekly episodes from the late 2000’s to early 2010’s golden era of teen TV, I c

Editorial Assistant Bethany Sharman gives a voice to your camera roll, inviting you to listen to its thoughts. The sun sets, and I take the night shift. Again. After all this time, I still can’t get used to the routine. Disturbed at 1 a.m. for a session of what feels like endless scrolling through the… what was it again? Oh yes, the #mems . You lie in bed giggling over your late night finds. Meanwhile the only thing I’ve found is sleep deprivation. But what do they always