a mix of narrative non-fiction on a mix of topics.
This building is being waterboarded. I live inside the sound of water, falling down a dozen long galvanized throats as it sheds off a roof the size of two tennis courts. Giggles, sighs, shouts of rain or coughs of hail that can last for hours. The sound is variously deafening, overwhelming, comforting: a maelstrom, a… Continue reading Rain
I am so sick of me today, so when the sun finally drops below the spring rainclouds and fills the house with a sudden brightness I look up from my work-desk with anticipation...
An ancient hill shaded by eucalypts, later the hunting of native animals, or worse. Then, gold for the picking. Today, dawn gilds the building that shades this place...
Groups of families, friends, couples, talk and eat. It’s a busy weekday lunchtime and this place could only be in rural Victoria: the style is approximately hipster, the service is genial, the tables worn, the coffee excellent and the menu streamed straight from the 1970s. I’m gazing at the astonishingly good wine list, hanging… Continue reading Heathcote Café
We are waiting for the 11:15, I am travelling alone. Asian tourists, serene girls, with somnolent boyfriends like wisps of rice straw in their wake, drift through the concourse - pale leaves on dark water, catching against benches and pillars, throwing up beachheads of bags and flowers. Whispering deros, winos and assorted night people hug… Continue reading At Ballarat Station
Profile of Michael Vale, Artist. A straw-thin, straw-pale young man, with red-gold quiff and trim goatee, steers his shy pretty dark-haired companion around the Gothic Beauty exhibition in Bendigo Art Gallery and directly to the exhibits on the rear wall. He leans in towards her, drawing them both closer to a large, remarkable oil painting.… Continue reading Time Travelling: A How-To Guide
P A Swanborough 
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