Field Notes: Merriwa, NSW Photo courtesy of hoejin-iwai-iK4ju_SCfTM-unsplash I’ve dealt with hay fever for the best part of two weeks — or is it three now?Already I feel it sneaking over the edges of my personality and burrowing like a worm as part of my identity. What does it feel like to live without managing… Continue reading Road life Reality: Between Dust and Direction
Category: From the marrow
Road life: A snapshot
I stayed last night in Wallabadah — at the First Fleet Memorial Gardens. After driving from Delungra, I was hot and bothered and surprised to find a Freedom Camp (campgrounds requiring a small donation while providing showers and toilets). The heat in NSW left me feeling hot and sweaty after driving for hours, so a… Continue reading Road life: A snapshot
Alone in a one horse town
Photo courtesy of Christine Writer It’s 7.25 a.m. I am in Delungra — about thirty kilometres out of Inverell in NSW. I left Glen Innes yesterday because it was time. Arrived here around 4 p.m. One servo. One pub. One church. One café (thats what the aero attendant told me, though I’m unsure where it… Continue reading Alone in a one horse town
Popcorn, chilly scrub and the one star feast
Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash Last night, I joined two friends at the top restaurant in Strahan for a farewell dinner. Shame I can’t say the food was terrific. My lentil soup came with a roll so cold, it must have been thawed straight from the freezer. The potato salad held barely cooked potatoes, the… Continue reading Popcorn, chilly scrub and the one star feast
Standing Stones, Ancient Sorrows
What I didn’t know when I rolled into Glen Innes was how familiar this small town would feel. From about ten kilometres outside its boundary, I felt an ancestral echo I can only describe as familiar — organic, internal. Strange, but something I won’t forget soon. Before arriving, I didn’t know Glen Innes is the… Continue reading Standing Stones, Ancient Sorrows
When ‘enough’ means letting go
The art of knowing when to stop holding on Written in my final three weeks at Motel Strahan, when my body began whispering that it was time to go. This morning, I woke with one thought pulsing: three weeks to go. Three weeks until I finish at Motel Strahan. I’ve offered to clean on my last day,… Continue reading When ‘enough’ means letting go
From the Marrow: It’s so sad
Some silences hold more truth than words ever could. It's so sad. Is it? I caught myself judging a friend for her performative grief — diving instantly into the socially acceptable displays around death and dying: mock sadness, circling the fresh kill, and picking at the bones of another’s sorrow to feed a need for… Continue reading From the Marrow: It’s so sad
Christine Writer 