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 Olga Hogan. ‘Don’t walk backwards!’ she tells me. We’re coming home from the lake. It is late spring and the lilac trees lining the path are in full bloom. The air vibrates with sweet perfume, making me believe in … 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