When I was twenty-four, my body started to eat itself alive.

The worst date I have ever been on was with a man named Riley.

A community, united. One that grows. One that nurtures. That’s what I saw when I stepped into Bianca Tainsh’s Terra Culture.

Tucked away in the heart of West End, artist Bianca Tainsh’s exhibit Terra Culture is a thriving haven containing entire worlds.

‘Have you ever seen a dead body before?’ Dad won’t give me a straight answer, just said that’s how they do funerals in Ireland.

When I was a kid, I went on an excursion to a cemetery. I’m not sure why our school decided to send a group of children to a field of dead strangers.

I’m from Colombia—or Columbia. Either way, it’s fine. Not a huge difference, really.

On the edge of campus, scrawled across the brickwork, is an instruction: ‘Drop out of uni: there is no future’.

'Droplets of cold sweat used my spine like a rollercoaster. My hoodie was too loose and my track pants too tight...'

A review of Richard Flanagan's Question 7.

'When I think of Latinidad, I see colour and flavour. I feel it in making empanadas. Dicing onions while my eyes burn...'

'I grew up in a wilderness commune on Vancouver Island, so there was never any escaping bodies of water.'

'Melons are like that; they want to grow.'

'When I saw you at that book launch after all these years, I wanted to know if it was okay to still say hi.'

'I desire the freedom to dress, think and act as I please without the shackles of rules, guilt and punishment weighing me down.'