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Edited by Mell Chun

NON-FICTION

An Outcast Cast Out ︎︎︎

I guess I should start by saying, “Welcome… welcome to the fringes.” It’s what we do, right? We welcome you to our places and spaces. It’s part of the running sheet these days. You got an event or meeting? Oop, we gotta get a welcome!

BY TABITHA LEAN

POETRY

you could have called this work ︎︎︎

…every night, we lit candles in the shrine: holy place for the space our friends left behind. a memorial for what the plague took. The Club: we went up to get down, get on, get lost in a midnight mass of connections. we could’ve named this work, but we called it a grammar of swollen feet.

BY SCOTT-PATRICK MITCHELL

NON-FICTION

Tandurrum ︎︎︎

I want to speak of hospitality and the blanket. And I want to speak about reparations. When the British first invaded Aboriginal Country in the late eighteenth century they bought many blankets with them, along with a variety of useless trinkets that included beads, mirrors and, for reasons unknown, buttoned shirts.

BY TONY BIRCH

POETRY

fanua | whenua ︎︎︎

land, earth, ground, place
a grounding that I never asked permission for
a host who never offered home
but has only ever shown hospitality

BY LANA LOPESI

FICTION

Once Were Foreigners ︎︎︎

When a foreigner lives with you in your land, don’t take advantage of him. Treat the foreigner the same as if he were native-born. Love him like one of your own. Remember that you were once foreigners in Egypt — Leviticus 19:33-34.

BY ITA-MARIE RALAGO

NON-FICTION

Island Time: Animal Crossing and Sacred Hospitality ︎︎︎

You spend the early pandemic laid up at your partner’s parents’ home, their new baby brother asleep in their bedroom for ease of access. There is a joyful spread of Animal Crossing across Twitter, its coincidence with multiple aesthetics reimagined in-game: Cottagecore, light/dark academia, perfect e-recreations of Harajuku.

BY JOSIE DEANE

NON-FICTION

Living With Yourself ︎︎︎

When I was a child, my mother ran away from home. That sounds silly; of course it does. I think she was fed up. Over what, I don’t remember— that my sister and I, around nine and thirteen, had been fighting that week, possibly that one of us had raised our voice at the other in a cinema and she thought it embarrassing.

BY EDA GUNAYDIN

FICTION

A Lovely Part Of The World ︎︎︎

Ella’s mother believed that gratitude was in short supply in her daughters. One day, her sister Freya was crying at the dining table because Centrelink had decided that she actually qualified for $150 dollars less per week; and to make matters worse, she was now owing the government money and had to immediately repay the extra $150 she had received for the last three payments.

BY RUPERT AZZOPARDI

Saturday May 28 2022

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