At eighteen, I left my home smelling of crushed cinnamon, cardamom and star anise. I stepped into Australia in the intense summer of 2013. The air smelled of eucalyptus and rosemary – a smell that I still pick up inRead more…
Baba’s coffee grounds
We walked to Preston Market together. Grandmother’s fingertips were scarlet from dying Easter eggs but it just added to her mystique. I spent my school holidays with her while my parents worked. Most other kids got to go and loiterRead more…
The toxic language of clean eating
My grandmother died at 98. In all her 98 years, she never counted a calorie or step. She ate bread and butter and she baked using white flour and sugar, and never tracked her nutrients with the vigilance of aRead more…
The other half – exploring my cultural identity
In the 1970s, my parents both boarded separate ships with their families bound for the golden shores of Australia. Each had a slightly different reason – my father’s family, coming from Britain, were simply migrating for a new lifestyle. WhereasRead more…
Limit
Sometimes, after school, David could hear his mother having an affair. The first few times, he could only hear soft steady breathing. The sound that breath makes when blown on a car window to make it fog up. He neverRead more…