By Kat Skarbek Her face is soft and pink in repose – childlike but for the snow-white hair fanned limply across the hospital pillow. Her face is remarkably unlined for someone as old as she never wanted to be. That … Continued
By Deborah Hunniford. Only yesterday, walking in Geelong West, I stopped to smell the roses. Behind lace curtains a shadow twitched, as if it had been lying in wait for me. I stiffened to form an exaggerated bow, hands tucked … Continued
By Chris Hansen. In the morning, often of a weekend, the sounds of mowers could be heard as far as you might wish to travel through the suburbs. My father’s mower was a Victa. Tried trusty and true it kept … Continued