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Archive for the ‘Essay’ Category

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Hi, this is Kathryn Millard and I’m reading from “The Talkies”. (more…)

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“Hi, I’m Violet Kieu and I will be reading from my new essay “Think Like a Surgeon”. (Photo by Paul Huang).
I was on a quest to become a surgeon. Now I am simply on a quest to survive surgical training.
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Hi, I’m Noëlle Janaczewska, and I’m reading from a piece called Yellow Melancholy.

I can’t entirely explain why that first encounter with yellow melancholy on page 244 of The Wild Flowers of Britain and Northern Europe so cheered me, but I can speculate. C. erisithales is not a terribly prepossessing plant, but it has the most evocative name, a name that recalls the poetic tradition that informs so much English nature writing, and not only nature writing, but landscape history as well. W. G. Hoskins began his influential 1955 book The Making of the English Landscape not with statistics or theoretical exposition, but with Wordsworth and the remark that ‘poets make the best topographers.’ Yellow melancholy recharged my interest in the plant realm and our human interactions with it, a long-standing interest, but one which had lain dormant a while. It suggested possibilities, new ecologies of exploration and research. It reminded me that not all writing paths lead to theatre.

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“My name is Diana Jenkins, and this is from my blog – DoctorDi – it’s about the birth of my son.

Outside, it was a hot, sunny day. The sky was that cloudless, blazing blue that is so distinctly Sydney’s, and the heat swarmed over my skin like something alive. We strolled up to Crows Nest and decided – perhaps this betrays a measure of our delirium – that now might be a good time to purchase something for Baby J to wear home from the hospital. We hadn’t gotten that far beforehand, you see. Llew hadn’t even finished the bassinet, let alone the painting… so a coming home outfit? Not a chance. A muslin wrap? Nary a one in sight. A nappy? Um, no. Baby wipes? I don’t think so. We were caught spectacularly unprepared – even the car seat wasn’t yet fitted. So I squelched along beside Llew while he fielded calls from his increasingly alarmed parents, still feeling nothing but the fluid draining out of me at irregular intervals, keeping my eyes peeled for a baby store.
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