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The electronic check-out machine does not want to recognise the small beige barcode on the plastic-wrapped parsley in my hand. … More

It is only fitting that I ended up here, stamping my feet on the uneven stoned streets and chanting poorly … More

The large rectangular mirror that hangs in the pergola reflects the encroaching foliage of the forest. Though I know this … More

“LISBOA IS NOT FOR SALE” The words are stenciled across the side of an alley wall along the main drag … More

His name is Victor. He is sitting by the step and I amble nearby waiting for my friends to come … More

The following reflection was written whilst sitting on the tarmac outside Flinders St station, Melbourne, with protestors from the Artists … More