Set in Australia or focuses on Australian identity, limited by the scope of work.
A nice man! Tall, but not too tall, because then you -- you too short, eh-mar, for a very tall man with a beard...
She is polite to these strangers around her, radiates love, affection, hoping they will not hurt her. The same as when she came to this place the first time, her anger and the fear unexpected. Be polite, be modest, be loveable, and the strangers won't hurt her.
A monstrously virtuous daughter bricked into a room in her father's semi-detached residence finds herself captivated by the neighbour's pure and amoral son.
Now, before I forget, darlin', here's your prezzie, you love Milk Tray, I remember you do, don't you?
Still, she's never been much for others, my mother: at the time I didn't know if she realised her sister was actually on her deathbed, but now I'm starting to think she just had no sympathy for the situation.
we have run long and away we three from the mountain always standing still
Three hundred and sixty degrees she turned, and as if trapped in an early version of a three dimensional gamer's world, she turned and turned and only saw her face. She had no sides, no curves but for the hourglass defining her.
Fifteen new workplaces in seventeen years, always with oversized men, the labouring hulks of the south-east corridor, too proud or smart to be unemployed, too proud or stubborn to get a trade. He makes himself fit in.
The children understood her competence in adversity even without language, for how often must she have been mocked to have learned her fluid, unemotional pre-emptive strategy?
However searing the sun, space was never a glorious frontier.
on the air the smell of haloumi grilling
Jesus wept, it's just a tissue.
...no, I'm thinking, oh no, no, no, did I really eat all that frozen bread, I'm not supposed to eat flour! I'm not supposed to eat bread! -- and I'm thinking of all those wasted days, days I tell you, of half-starving and it's all gone down the toilet like a huge gluten-fat floaty turd, you know, those slick yellow ones, I can't fight myself if I'm going to eat while I'm sleeping...
On the sofa, their commentary faces forwards, as though the television is their audience, and their life is a kind of inverted pantomime.
A home just isn't complete without Nazi memorabilia, one salesman says.
along with your shadow let your accent lengthen
The global community reels with the discovery of impending apocalypse - but even the sky falling can't keep a good storyteller down. This is a future Australia where waiting for apocalypse has become a bit of a bore. Set in Kalgoorlie's SuperPit, grunt-level miner Katashi meets Arunta, the long-legged ruck rover of his dreams. Happily unreliable, Katashi tells his and Arunta's story from before, through and after the end of the world.
When I visited Over There, it had been forty two years since I left. Every second question was 'why aren't you married'. Gone forty two years and there's no 'how are you, what do you do, tell us about your life!' No, it's all, 'where's your husband? Where's your boyfriend? Why aren't you married?'
If with no consideration for the fate of ferns.
Her mother could not find a photographer. No one sits at the bridal table. Beloved's friends are not by her side.