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Take almost any street, in any modern city, and we are there. We are the substrata of society, ever-present, the unseen lining, the padding in the crowd. We carry our backgrounds closer than our wallets, effortlessly. Yet they inform our every step.
They feel a shyness and a fear/taking off their clothes. Gravity has had its say/regarding shape and size. Their bodies are a narrative/permitting no disguise. There’s been no rush — or just a bit — the lattes have been had.
There was a love that manifested in my house that needed no naming. It transcended adjectives or nouns. We were so playful to the extent we tried our mother's dresses, skirts, blouses. In days when I felt the fullness of my mischievousness, I dressed like my mother or sister and ran out of the house to make people laugh. There was no fuss about it.
All right, Chongqing, let my dry skin fall in love with your moisture, my eyes used to the desolation and wind and sand ... Your sudden flashes of lightning and thunder, commotion of dripping water, and the heaving quietness, the fate of history.
A recent report on the lack of culturally and linguistically diverse (CALD) representation in arts leadership recognises the limitations of the label. In an era marked by media bubbles, it is more vital than ever that we use categories such as CALD to build bridges, while not losing sight of our differences and varying levels of disadvantage.
He may be proud, even arrogant, but he's fun. With Odysseus you read yourself; his company is exciting and revealing, so much so that his homecoming is everyone's domesticity.
What about compoundnounsthatrunlike this. Something here about the glory of native bush even tho you have never been beyond zone 3 on PT. Add doleful '....' Beckettian misery here. (Phew, your 20th century Lit Minor was not a waste!) So winning so woke you never even zzz.
On the Circle driving around the Parliament ... you say it's all swings and roundabouts, a circumlocutory carousel, a beauty of tautology, movement continuity ... no pause to merge, roundabout way of saying, you will never be us.