Browsing: Creative

Nestled between the giant pillars of Redfern and Newtown, it’s easy to forget that it is there until an aimless walk takes you there, off the corner of an unfamiliar street.

Qiuhua sees it in the way the air blurs and shimmers when Yangfeng is near, the blood-clotting warmth and organ-squeezing butterflies.

Your hair’s longer now, you’ve stopped calling yourself ‘he’. You’re not sure why you still call fifteen-year old you ‘he’. Probably just a habit. You are your mother’s child, after all.

Do you remember how you felt? I remember you saying “I wish I were a boy” out loud and proud almost every day, every single day, and yet never thinking to verbalise it.